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“ Hold on, Benson ! ” — Page 8. 



Published, March, 1907 


LIBRARY ot'NQRESS 

Tto&Oot** -^vetoed 

feb m m 7 



Copyright, 1907, by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 


All rights reserved 


Raymond Benson at Krampton 



Norwood Press 
Berwick and Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass. 

U. S. A. 


TO MY MOTHER 

WHO HAS AIRWAYS HAD A MOVING INTEREST IN YOUNG PEOPLE 
THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Trip to Krampton i 

II. First Meeting with Professor McCeeery . 15 

III. The Academy Ceub 29 

IV. An Unfortunate Encounter 41 

V. Raymond and Ned meet Cy Devons .... 54 

VI. A Session with the Faculty 68 

VII. Raymond Loses His Watch 80 

VIII. A Caee to the Basebaee Squad 92 

IX. A Morning with Cy Devons 105 

X. A Sardine Supper 118 

XI. Moker’s Experience in a Warm Ceoset . . 131 
XII. Raymond Finds His Stoeen Watch .... 147 

XIII. The Triae of Biffins 154 

XIV. Why James Veazie Came to Krampton ... 169 

XV. A Saturday Night with Densor 183 

XVI. The Opening Game with TieevieeF .... 197 

XVII. The Passing of Ducky Beiss 21 1 

XVIII. The Beginnings of Footbaee 22 5 

XIX. The Opening Game with Stewart 239 

XX. Wisweee’s Great Coon Hunt 252 

XXI. What Foeeowed the Chase 26 7 

XXII. The Iron Chain Brotherhood 282 

XXIII. Copen’s Initiation 


v 


VI 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIV. Events oe the Summer Term 313 

XXV. A Chapter of Incident 332 

XXVI. The Goat in the Beefry 349 

XXVII. A Surprising Accusation 366 

XXVIII. A Fishing Trip to PereEy Pond ..... 381 

XXIX. Copen’s Masterpiece 395 

XXX. The Chicken Raid and Its Outcome . . . 410 

XXXI. Good-by to Krampton j 425 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

" Hold on, Benson!” . . . . . . (. Frontispiece ) 8 
“I’ll have it there in a moment ” 38 

Raymond held out a hand to Wiswell, who shook 

it heartily 87 

The door swung slowly open 141 

“ I’m almost ashamed to look you in the face ” . . 203 

“ Speech ! Speech 1 Copen ! Copen I” . . . . 249 

“ Candidate,” said the Grand Cyclops, “ turn about 

and look before you ” * . . 297 

“ I’ve caught ye, ye rascals 1 ” 413 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


CHAPTER I 

THE TRIP TO KRAMPTON 

“ Are you going to Krampton ? ” 

It was a short, thick-set boy, with a round, good- 
natured face, who paused in the car aisle for a moment 
to ask this question of Raymond Benson and Ned 
Grover. 

They looked up at him with quick interest. 

“ How did you guess that ? ” asked Raymond, with 
a smile. 

Their questioner indulged in a self-satisfied chuckle. 

“ Thought I couldn’t be mistaken,” he said. 

“ Won’t you sit down?” asked Ned, removing his 
hand-bag from the seat in front of him. 

“ Yes, thanks,” said their new friend, as he dropped, 
with evident satisfaction, into the place thus cleared 
for him. 

“ I take it you are familiar with Krampton,” said 
Raymond, giving him a searching look. 

“ Yes, I am going back to begin my second year 
there,” was the response. “ Are you going there for 
the first time ? ” he added. 


i 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ I thought there would be no trouble in determining 
that,” laughed Ned. “ Don’t we look like it? ” 

“ Well, that’s hard to say,” returned their new 
friend, with critical frankness. “ You see so many 
students come into the academic department, and after 
they are through there, return a year or two later for 
work in the commercial department, that it’s often hard 
telling who are new ones and who are not.” 

A look of amused recollection came into his face, 
and leaning back in his seat he burst into a hearty 
laugh. 

Raymond and Ned looked at him inquiringly. 

“ I had an experience last term that taught me to 
be cautious. Came up with Bessey — an old fellow who 
graduated two years before, and was returning for a 
term in the commercial college. Oh, he was the most 
innocent chap I ever saw; asked me all sorts of ques- 
tions. In fact, before I got through I actually solicited 
him to join the Social Brotherhood — of which he had 
been a leading member for four years.” He paused 
a moment, then added, a little ruefully, “ I actually 
succeeded in pledging him — haven’t heard the last of 
it yet.” 

His listeners could not forbear a smile at this nar- 
rative. 

“ You needn’t worry about us, Mr. — Mr. — ” Ray- 
mond paused inquiringly. 

“ Pember — Hartley Pember,” hastily interposed 
their new acquaintance. 


THE TRIP TO KRAMPTON 


3 


“ Pember,” repeated Raymond. “ We are as new 
as we look. My name is Benson — Raymond Ben- 
son — and this is my friend, Ned Grover.” 

“ Glad to know you, boys,” said Pember, extending 
his hand cordially. “ Have you engaged rooms ? ” 

“ Yes, we are to stop in the big dormitory,” responded 
Raymond. 

“ Oh, Porter Hall?” 

“ I think that’s the place, wasn’t it, Ned?” 

“ Oh, it must be,” interposed Pember. “ That’s the 
only large dormitory at Krampton. I room there 
myself. Where are you going to board, at the hash 
house ? ” 

Raymond looked puzzled. 

“ No,” he said, slowly, “ at the Academy Club.” 

“ Yes, that’s it; that’s the hash house,” declared 
Pember. 

Ned’s eyes twinkled. 

“ Your catalogue names don’t appear to be in general 
use,” he suggested. 

“ Catalogue names,” repeated Pember, contempt- 
uously. “ Lord ! ” he added, in a burst of confidence. 
“ They don’t amount to shucks. Nobody uses them 
at Krampton — that is — except the faculty.” 

“ Who don’t count, I suppose,” laughed Ned. 

“ Well, in a minor sort of a way,” admitted Pember, 
after a judicial pause. “ You see it’s the inner circle — 
good people, all of them. You’ll be sure to like them; 
but, socially, they are a trifle old and just a little slow 


4 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


for us. Have you boys ever heard anything about the 
literary societies ? ” 

“ No,” admitted Raymond. 

“ Well, there are two of them, the Social Brother- 
hood and the Literary Fraternity. Their members are 
known as Literiis and Sociis. I’m a Socii.” 

“ Which I presume is the better society ? ” interposed 
Raymond, with a smile. 

“ As true as you live,” rejoined Pember, with 
enthusiasm. “ There’s simply no comparison.” 

“ I suppose the Literiis would say the same of their 
society?” ventured Ned. 

“ Of course, — Oh yes, certainly, poor fellows ! ” 
said Pember, with a sigh of commiseration. “ They 
have to make the best of the situation.” 

He glanced cautiously around the car, and lowered 
his voice. 

“ Right between you and me,” he said, confidentially, 
“ I have reason to believe that there are dozens of them 
who would be tickled to death this minute if they could 
only wipe off the old slate, and get into the Brother- 
hood.” 

“ Are there any similar yearnings among the Sociis ? ” 
asked Raymond. 

“ Not on your life,” responded Pember, with empha- 
sis. “ But don’t take my word for it. Look them 
over for yourself. I have no fear of the result,” he 
added, somewhat loftily. 

“ Thank you,” was Raymond’s non-committal reply. 


THE TRIP TO KRAMPTON 5 

“ I suppose a crowd will go over to Krampton on 
the stage from Dicksville to-night?” said Ned. 

“ Not so many probably as will come Tuesday night,” 
responded Pember. “ Still, we are pretty sure to have 
two good coach-loads. By the way, don’t take the first 
one. It carries the mail, and has to wait for it to be 
changed at the Dicksville post-office. New students 
’most always make a dash for it, if some one doesn’t 
give them a tip. The second coach from the station 
is the first one to reach Krampton.” 

“ Thanks,” said Ned, gratefully, “ we’ll keep that 
in mind.” 

Presently the train reached Dicksville, and Raymond 
and Ned perceived, from the merry, laughing group 
of boys and girls who poured out of the two cars in 
front of them, that it was there that most of the 
Krampton students had been assembled during the trip. 
Two large coaches, one drawn by six, the other by four 
horses, were awaiting them, and in a short time they 
found themselves stowed away on the top of the 
latter, in company with their new friend, Pember, and 
a number of other students. The interior of the coach 
was reserved for the young ladies, of whom there were 
a dozen or more. It was a very merry group of boys 
and girls who laughed and joked and shouted happy 
greetings from various parts of the big coach, as it 
made its way at a smart trot through the principal street 
of the village, and turned up the road to Krampton. 

Pember introduced Raymond and Ned to a number 


6 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


of the boys around them, all of whom seemed eager 
to make their acquaintance, and in a short time they 
felt almost as much at home among the members of 
the jovial little group as if they had always known 
them. 

The road to Krampton wound its picturesque way 
along the shores of the Koussinoc river. Back of the 
foot-hills, which were already beginning to glow with 
tints of autumn, stretched in the hazy distance ranges 
of mountains, whose rocky peaks, already white with 
snow, towered in cold majesty above the surrounding 
landscape. 

These scenes were new to Raymond and Ned, who 
gazed upon them in silent admiration. 

Some of the girls began to sing “ Aunt Dinah’s 
Quilting Party,” and soon the boys had joined in the 
refrain. The clear young voices resounded cheerily 
along the valley road, and evoked sympathetic nods 
and smiles from the drivers of passing teams. 

Presently the road bore away from the river, and 
soon the patient horses toiled slowly up a steep hill. 

“ Couldn’t this have been avoided ? ” asked Raymond 
of the driver, who sat in front of him. 

“ Not without a tunnel through this hill,” was the 
response. “ Looks just as if a piece of it had been 
sliced out on purpose to let the river through. They 
call it the Narrows. It’s nearly a hundred feet where 
the hill breaks to the water below, and pretty nearly 
straight down all the way. This whole hill is nothing 


THE TRIP TO KRAMPTON 7 

but a big ledge, anyway. It has one of the best granite 
quarries in the State about a mile to the left of us.” 

By this time they had reached the height of land, 
and as Raymond looked down the long slope he again 
saw the gleam of the seething river winding its sinuous 
way among towering ledges and gigantic boulders. 

At the foot of the hill, the road, which once more 
fringed the rugged banks of the roaring torrent, turned 
abruptly to the left, and was lost to sight behind a 
rocky horseback, which had been cut away, almost at 
the water's edge, to afford traffic a necessary passage. 

“ What is that — a precipice?” asked Raymond, 
pointing to this turn in the road, where a light log 
railing fenced off the river-bank. 

“ Well, not exactly,” answered the driver. “ It's 
about twenty-five feet down to the river-bottom at that 
point, and the rockiest place you ever saw.” 

“ I should think it would be dangerous,” said Ray- 
mond. 

“ Well, it might be — in the night,” admitted the 
driver. 

“ Haven't you a brake ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ Yes, but not in working order. I smashed it going 
over to Dicksville this afternoon. Intended to have 
had it fixed, but I swan I was so busy it never entered 
my mind. There’s no trouble, though. Them pole 
horses is good for it.” 

Raymond was about to express his hope that such 
might be the case when a most unexpected thing hap- 


8 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


pened. One of the lead horses suddenly lurched and 
fell upon its knees, pulling the reins from the driver’s 
hands. Almost immediately the wiry little animal 
scrambled to its feet, and the team, no longer feeling 
a restraining hand, dashed down the long incline at a 
mad gallop. 

A chorus of frantic shrieks came from the inside of 
the coach, when the girls realized that the driver had 
lost control of his team. Several of them would have 
jumped had not Ned and one or two other boys, who 
sat near the outer edge of the coach-top, peremptorily 
ordered them to keep their seats. The driver, who 
was not a man of quick mental processes, appeared to 
be utterly bewildered by the terrifying turn of events — 
“ Whoa ! whoa there ! whoa ! ” he shouted hoarsely, 
but the unnatural and frightened tones of his voice 
only served to accelerate the wild pace of the horses. 

The students on the coach-top were pale with fear. 

“ They won’t make the turn ! ” cried one, in a hor- 
rified voice, and the same fearful thought shone in 
every eye. 

“ Hold on, Benson ! ” gasped several in chorus, as 
Raymond darted in front of the driver and swung him- 
self from the fender down upon the big, broad tongue 
of the coach. “ Look out! Come back! You’ll be 
killed!” 

But Raymond, having formed a desperate purpose, 
was not to be dissuaded from it. For a moment he 
had been dumfounded by the suddenness of the accident, 


THE TRIP TO KRAMPTON 


9 


then his nerve had returned to him, and his quick wit 
had shown what it was necessary to do. He balanced 
uncertainly for an almost imperceptible space of time 
upon the big pole near the axle; then, with a quick, 
forward movement, he threw himself astride the back 
of the nigh pole horse, caught the hames with a firm 
grip, and, bending forward, succeeded in recovering 
the rein on that side of the team which was dragging 
in the road between the horses. Fortunately, it was 
the one that must be used in making the turn. Quick 
as his movements had been, he had no time to attempt 
to regain the driver’s seat. As they approached the 
turn, he straightened back and pulled sharply on the 
rein, the horses responded, and swept around the sharp 
curve with scarcely any slackening of speed. The 
heavy coach balanced a moment on its outer wheels 
in a threatened overturn, but finally righted itself, and 
continued in safety to the foot of the hill. At the 
beginning of the next rise Raymond succeeded in 
bringing the horses to a stop. The brief ride had 
been a wild one, and grave consequences had been 
narrowly averted; but aside from the strain upon the 
nerves of some of the young passengers, no actual 
damage had resulted. 

The moment the coach came to a standstill, a white- 
faced crowd of boys and girls scrambled hastily to the 
ground, finding an evident relief in once more feeling 
the firm earth under their feet. Several of the girls 
were weeping hysterically. 


10 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


It was not until the driver stood by his horses and 
received the reins from Raymond’s hands that he finally 
found his voice. 

“ And what did you say your name was ? ” 

“ I didn’t say,” coolly returned Raymond ; “ but it’s 
Benson.” 

“ Benson, you are a — a brick,” continued the driver, 
enthusiastically, wringing the boy’s hand in a vise-like 
grip- 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Raymond, rubbing 
his hand ruefully. “ I suspect I’m partly bones.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Benson ! ” exclaimed pretty Mary Wins- 
low, with tearful eyes, “ how can we ever thank you ? ” 

“Yes, how can we?” echoed the other girls. 

“ Don’t try to,” said Raymond, blushing with embar- 
rassment. “ I was lucky enough to help out a little, 
that’s all. Any of the boys could have done as much.” 

“ No, we couldn’t,” protested the boys with one 
voice. 

“ Three cheers for Benson ! ” called Harry Archer, 
and they were given with a will. 

Presently the party resumed their places upon the 
coach, and the trip to Krampton was completed without 
further mishap. 

It seemed to Raymond and Ned that they had never 
seen so beautiful a village as Krampton. It was located 
in a little basin in the hills, and back of it a large brook, 
known locally as the Penneyman stream, made its way 
to the Koussinoc river. 


THE TRIP TO KRAMPTON 


II 


The village boasted but one street, which ended 
where the roads forked to right and left, on either 
side of the neat white church, to connect with the 
neighboring country. It was a broad street, shaded 
on either side by towering elms and maples. White 
cottage houses fringed it on either side. On the left, 
about half-way up this street, between the entrance to 
the village proper and the church, were located the 
Academy buildings and grounds. It was evident that 
the school furnished the principal business of the 
immediate community, the larger part of whose inhab- 
itants — chiefly through the letting of rooms and the 
furnishing of board — derived some measure of income 
from it. 

The grounds of the institution were spacious and 
beautiful. They contained four buildings. Porter 
Hall was a large, brick structure, four stories in 
height, with three corridors running through it from 
side to side, from which opened on either side, on the 
first three stories, large and airy rooms for students. 
The fourth floor of the building was wholly given 
over to the uses of the commercial college. The Chapel 
was a beautiful brick building, with a long wooden ell. 
The lower floor, and the greater portion of the other 
floors in the main building, were devoted to recitation- 
rooms. The hall was located in the second story of 
the ell. The other two buildings were of wood. Both 
were given over, above the first floor, to students’ 
rooms. One of them was used below by the teacher 


12 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


of penmanship. The other, situated in the rear of 
Porter Hall, was utilized on its ground floor by the 
Academy Club and, as we have already learned through 
Hartley Pember, was known to the students generally 
as “ the hash house.” 

The village contained four stores. Two of them 
were devoted to groceries, grain and general mer- 
chandise. Another was given over to tinware, 
confectionery and “ Yankee Notions,” and bore the 
somewhat uncertain sign “ Cheap Cash Store,” painted 
in white letters on a dark background. Pember told 
Raymond and Ned, with evident relish, how a mis- 
chievous student had once prepared a letter H which 
he had pasted over the C in the word Cash one night, 
thereby converting the establishment into a “ Cheap 
Hash Store.” The fourth and last of the stores sup- 
plying the village with merchandise, was nominally a 
drug store, although it also carried a full line of the 
various text-books and general school supplies used 
in the work of the institution. The rear was par- 
titioned off for the village post-office, and here, too, 
was found the only soda fountain in town. 

One of the grocery stores stood beside the Academy 
grounds, and, on the advice of Pember, Raymond and 
Ned decided to leave their trunks there until they 
ascertained where they were to locate. 

“ You can see Prof. McCleery,” said their new 
friend, “ and find out what rooms you are to have, 
then it will be an easy matter for you to borrow the 


THE TRIP TO ICRAMPTON 


13 


store wheelbarrow and carry your trunks over. It will 
not be far to go, anyway.” 

The drug store, as it contained the post-office, 
was naturally the principal stopping place of the big 
coaches — even when they were run as extras, on 
special occasions, and carried no mail. 

Here a happy crowd of boys and girls was awaiting 
the party with which Raymond and Ned had come 
over from Dicksville, and whose members they greeted 
with exuberant warmth. Raymond and Ned did not 
leave the coach, maintaining their seats a little diffi- 
dently amid the din of voices. Raymond flushed with 
genuine embarrassment when he realized that the 
adventure of the afternoon was the principal topic of 
conversation, and that he was the target of all eyes. 
He was greatly relieved when the coach continued on 
its way to the grocery store, where they had planned 
to leave their trunks. 

They found the proprietor a very pleasant, accom- 
modating gentleman, who readily gave them permission 
to leave their trunks with him while they went for a 
call upon Professor McCleery, the Principal of the 
school, whose house had been pointed out to them as 
they drove through the village. 

A sweet-faced, dark-eyed girl, about sixteen years 
of age, answered their ring, and invited them into the 
Professor’s library. 

“ Papa is not at home,” she said, with a pleasant 
smile, “ but we are expecting him every minute. He 


H 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


will be glad, I am sure, to have you wait for him 
here.” 

Then she excused herself and left them to examine 
the Professor’s den at their leisure. It was a large, 
sunny apartment, with a big bay window on the south 
side. Every available inch of wall-space was devoted 
to cases which extended from floor to ceiling, and were 
filled with what was, clearly, a very valuable collection 
of books. 

A rare old combination book-case and desk of solid 
mahogany stood at the right of the bay window, and 
was covered with a large pile of manuscript. 

Raymond and Ned were oppressed with a feeling 
almost akin to awe at the Professor’s obvious erudition. 
How could a man who was capable of using a work- 
room like that spare time from his busy life to deal 
with the small affairs of boys like them? 

As they sat in silence, each absorbed in his own 
reflections, Raymond conjured up a mental portrait 
of the Principal. He would be a man about seventy 
years of age, thin and spare in form and feature. His 
face would be smooth, and his head would be bald on 
top, fringed with thin gray hair. He would wear a 
tall silk hat, gold-bowed spectacles, walk with a slight 
stoop, and carry a cane. 

Ned afterwards confessed to a similar portrait — 
though he had given his Professor a long white beard, 
as necessary to the completion of a truly patriarchal 
face. 


CHAPTER II 


FIRST MEETING WITH PROFESSOR MCCLEERY 

“ Sorry to keep you waiting, boys.” 

Professor McCleery had entered the library and 
shaken hands with Raymond and Ned, who gazed 
at him in ill-concealed amazement. Never had they 
imagined that a genuine “ Professor ” could look like 
him. 

The Krampton Principal was a tall, well-built man, 
in middle life. His clear gray eyes were innocent of 
spectacles, while a heavy growth of iron-gray hair 
covered his head. He wore a full beard, but, unlike 
that of Ned’s ideal, it was only slightly sprinkled with 
white. His forehead was broad and high, and his 
features clear-cut and sensitive. His movements were 
quick and vigorous, and a firm mouth gave evidence 
of a strong will. 

It was his dress, however, that specially disappointed 
the preconceived notions of Raymond and Ned. Pro- 
fessor McCleery was clad in a well-worn, gray sack 
suit. His trousers were tucked into the legs of a pair 
of rubber boots, and as he removed the black felt hat 
which had covered his head the boys detected several 
well-defined holes in the crown. 

is 


l6 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Let me see,” he said, with a keen glance at 
Raymond. “ This is Mr. — ” 

“ Benson,” prompted Raymond. 

“ Oh, yes, I know now; and this, I presume, is Mr. 
Grover?” he added, with an inquiring glance at Ned. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ I had a letter from Mr. Grover’s father about you. 
I’ve told Mr. Mason, our steward, to reserve you 
rooms in Porter Hall, and book you for places in the 
Academy Club. Have you been to supper ? ” 

“ No, sir,” said Raymond. 

“Well, you must take it with me. Excuse me a 
moment.” He left the room, and through the partially 
open door the boys heard him call to his daughter: 
“ Put on a couple of extra plates, Sadie. The boys 
will take tea with us.” 

“ I suppose you boys know what it is to farm,” he 
said, with a smile, as he returned to the study. 

“ Certainly,” responded Ned. 

“ We’ve had very good opportunities for practice,” 
added Raymond. 

Somehow the boys were beginning to feel wonder- 
fully well at home with the Professor, whose simple 
directness of manner and kindly warmth made them 
forget that he had established a national reputation 
as a scholar and writer. 

“ I’ve been doing a little farming myself,” continued 
the Principal. “ There’s a bit of swale back of the 
house, running down to the brook; and I’ve been 


FIRST MEETING WITH PROFESSOR MCCLEERY 1 7 

putting some drains through it. I have an idea that, 
if I can get it dry enough to work, it will make me 
a good garden plot.” 

The Professor addressed them precisely as if they 
were grown men, and they were by no means insensible 
to the implied compliment. 

“ Treating a boy like a man is the first step in 
making him one,” had long been a favorite maxim 
of the Krampton principal. 

As they talked the boys found their reserve disap- 
pearing, and they were soon conversing as freely with 
the Professor as if they had never stood in any awe 
of him. 

Presently Sadie came to the door to announce tea, 
and they followed their host to the dining-room. The 
Professor sat at the head of the table, and his daughter 
at the foot. A middle-aged domestic, whom the boys 
suspected was also the cook, served as waitress. 

After grace was said the Professor turned quickly 
to the boys. 

“ By the way,” he said, “ I have taken it for granted 
that you have met my daughter. This is Mr. Benson 
and Mr. Grover, Sadie.” 

“ We met informally before you came in,” she said, 
with a smile. “ Pm very glad to learn their names, 
however.” 

Both the boys blushed, while a momentary look of 
amusement flitted across the Professor’s face. 

“ This is my little housekeeper,” he said, nodding 


l8 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

his head towards his daughter. “ When her sister 
Annie, who is visiting friends in Boston, is at home, 
they take turns in the position. They are all the family 
I have,” he added. 

Raymond felt a little constrained at first, but so 
frank and cordial was the Professor’s daughter that 
before the meal was over they were chatting as freely 
as if they had been old acquaintances. 

After supper Professor McCleery accompanied them 
to one of the rooms in Porter Hall, and introduced 
them to Mason, the Academy steward, who met them 
very cordially, remarking, as he shook hands with 
them, that he was also a Maine man. 

He showed them to the rooms which had been 
reserved for them in another part of the same building. 
They were up one flight, and consisted of a large, 
sunny sitting-room on the front, with a bedroom open- 
ing on the rear. 

There was no carpet on the floor, and the furnish- 
ings were plain and meagre, consisting of a long, pine 
study table, four chairs, two of which were rockers, 
an old lounge, somewhat the worse for wear, a bed, 
a bureau, a commode, a wash-bowl and pitcher, a 
wooden pail, a mirror, a lamp and a small stand. A 
good-sized Franklin wood stove located in the front 
room furnished the heat for both apartments. 

“ I suppose you understand that students are expected 
to supply their own sheets, towels and pillow-cases ? ” 
remarked the steward. 


FIRST MEETING WITH PROFESSOR MCCLEERY 19 

“ Yes/’ responded Raymond, “ we came prepared 
for that.” 

“ Why, here's a fire all ready to start,” cried Ned, 
who had opened the stove door. 

“ Yes,” said Mason, “ I fixed it this morning. 
There's wood enough in the box to last you to-night. 
The price of room rent in this hall carries fuel also. 
You will find it in the cellar.” 

“ And the room ? ” 

“ Oh, you’ll have to take care of them, too,” said 
the steward quickly, catching at the drift of the ques- 
tion. “ The Academy has nothing to do with that. 
There are women in town whom you can employ to 
do special cleaning for you in case you wish it. Most 
of the boys, however, do all of their own work.” 

“ Oh, we're used to that. We shan't mind work,” 
said Raymond, hastily. 

“ Krampton, despite the great educational work it 
has done, and is still doing, is poor,” continued Mason, 
soberly, “ and the same may be said of a large per 
cent, of the students here. Of course many come here 
from the cities and larger communities whose parents 
are well-to-do, and in some cases wealthy. By far 
the greater number, however, come from the farms 
in the neighboring country, and many of them board 
themselves.” 

“ Board themselves!” echoed Raymond and Ned 
in chorus. 

“ Yes. You will have ample opportunity before you 


20 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


leave here to know something of the sacrifices that 
ambitious girls and boys are willing to make in order 
to obtain an education. I have always thought/' he 
added, with an accent of pride, “ that the sturdy, self- 
reliant blood Krampton has been able to draw from is 
chiefly responsible for the great success it has achieved 
as an educational institution." 

“ But I don’t see how boys can board themselves/’ 
said Ned, incredulously. 

“ Don’t you ? ’’ smiled the steward. “ Bless you, 
it’s easy enough. Some of them even cook their 
own bread and pastry. Others get women here in the 
village to do it for them. Then, with a supply of 
fresh milk and crackers, oatmeal, cheese, codfish, 
oysters, etc., they get along very comfortably.’’ 

“ I don’t believe I should care to try it,” said Ned. 

“ That’s not surprising/’ said Mason, laughing. “ I 
shouldn’t if I were not obliged to.’’ 

“ I beg your pardon/’ said Ned, quickly. “ I never 
dreamed you were a student.’’ 

Mason laughed again good-humoredly. 

“ No apology is necessary,’’ he said. “ This is my 
third year at Krampton. I am in the senior class. 
I have worked my own way, and boarded myself from 
the start. As steward I shall board at the club this 
year. In fact the holding of this position is all that 
enables me to complete my course.’’ 

Ned and Raymond looked at him with increased 
respect. 


FIRST MEETING WITH PROFESSOR MCCLEERY 21 


Mason was a tall, thin young man, considerably 
older than students average in preparatory schools. 
He had clear blue eyes, a heavy head of black hair, 
and his sharply cut, somewhat care-worn countenance 
had the look of quiet self-restraint which comes early to 
young men who are thrown upon their own resources, 
and forced to fight their own battles. 

“ It will be all right, I suppose, for us to go into 
the club for breakfast ? ” said Raymond, inquiringly. 

“ Certainly,” returned Mason. " Come in a little 
early if you can and I will see that you are assigned 
seats for the term. Is there anything else I can do 
for you ? ” he asked, pausing with his hand upon the 
door-knob. 

“ I can think of nothing else,” replied Raymond. 
“ I’m sure, Mr. Mason, we both appreciate your kind- 
ness very much.” 

“ Don’t mention it,” replied Mason, and with a cor- 
dial “ Good-night,” he passed out into the hall. 

“ Well, how do you like it, anyway?” asked Ned, 
when the steward was out of hearing. 

“ Oh, it’s all right for a starter,” said Raymond, 
“ but there are a few things we must buy right away. 
You might as well make a list of them, and we’ll get 
them at the store when we go for our trunks.” 

“ Fire away,” returned Ned, as he drew a chair up 
to the table and produced a pencil and note-book. 

“ One lamp, broom, mop, water pail.” 

“ We’ve got a pail,” interrupted Ned. 


22 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“Yes, I know; but we’ll need that for slops.” 

“ Go on,” acquiesced Ned. 

“ One kerosene can and oil, two rugs.” 

“ You don’t expect to find rugs at a grocery store, 
do you?” laughed Ned. 

“ Not ordinarily; but we shall find them at that one. 
I noticed a pile of them when we left our trunks there.” 

“ Where are you going to use them ? ” 

“ On either side of the bed. It makes my teeth 
chatter to think of jumping out in the morning onto 
that cold floor.” 

“ And what else ? ” 

“ Let me see. I guess that’s about all. Perhaps 
you’d better put down a couple packages of fire 
kindlers.” 

“ How would the kerosene do? ” asked Ned. 

“ All right, perhaps ; but as you and I want to stay 
and graduate perhaps we had better use something 
else.” 

Having completed their list the boys went to Mer- 
ritt’s store, where they had left their trunks, and, 
borrowing a wheelbarrow, soon transferred them, 
together with their purchases, to their quarters in 
Porter Hall. 

When they had hung the pictures they had brought, 
and had put their various articles of fancy-work in 
place, the rooms presented a much more cheerful 
appearance. 

“ It’s beginning to look like home,” said Raymond, 


FIRST MEETING WITH PROFESSOR MCCLEERY 23 

standing back and viewing these improvements with 
satisfaction. “ I’ll have mother put a few more pic- 
tures and bric-a-brac into that box she’s going to send 
me, and then I think we shall be all right.” 

“ How would you like for us to change this old 
Franklin for a cook-stove and board ourselves?” 
asked Ned. 

Raymond shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I fancy,” he answered, “ that it would be a good 
deal like camping on Letter K — without its outdoor 
attractions. I shouldn’t care to inflict my cooking on 
you; neither should I dare to take any chances with 
yours.” 

Ned indulged in a low chuckle. 

“ On the whole,” he said, “ I think you’re right. I 
guess we’d better tempt fate at the hash house.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a rap at the 
door. 

“ Come,” shouted Raymond, and in response to the 
summons Hartley Pember entered the room. 

“ Well, well,” he smiled, “ you are getting right 
down to business without any delay. How do you 
like your new quarters ? ” 

“ Very much,” said Raymond. 

“ They’re all right,” added Ned. 

“ They are better than new fellows usually get,” 
said Pember. “ It was a good thing you engaged 
them ahead. Have any of the Literiis been in to 
see you yet?” 


24 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ I don’t think they’ve had time to locate us,” 
laughed Raymond. 

“ It’s a trifle early,” admitted Pember ; “ but there 
are times, you know, when the early bird secures 
the — ah — ” 

“ Worm,” prompted Ned. 

“ Cake,” concluded Pember, a little lamely. “ I 
didn’t foresee just where that moss-grown maxim 
was going to land me,” he added, with a laugh. 

“ Don’t mention it,” said Ned, with a grin. 

“ All right,” rejoined Pember, good-naturedly, “ and 
I hope you won’t. I suppose you don’t know what a 
good neighborhood you’ve settled in,” he continued, 
after a slight pause. “ I hope you will get acquainted 
with the boys across the hall — A1 Wiswell, and his 
cousin Frank Morris. I assure you they are both 
royal good fellows.” 

“ And members of the Brotherhood, I presume,” 
interposed Raymond, slyly. 

“ Certainly,” said Pember. “ There are good fel- 
lows among the Literiis; but the royal good fellows 
are Sociis.” 

“ I suppose the ‘ Royal ’ degree in good fellowship 
is only conferred by membership in the Brotherhood ? ” 
said Ned, with rising inflection. 

“ Certainly,” responded Pember, promptly. “ That’s 
it exactly. I will leave something for you to look over 
at your leisure,” he continued, handing each of the 
boys an envelope. “ I shall hope for a favorable con- 


FIRST MEETING WITH PROFESSOR MCCLEERY 25 

sideration,” he added. “ By the way, I came near 
losing sight of what I was going to say to you at the 
start. That early bird business broke me up and made 
me clean forget everything else. I room just above 
you, and should be glad to have both of you drop in 
on me whenever you get a chance,” and with a pleasant 
smile and nod, in response to the boys’ thanks, he left 
the room. 

The envelopes he had handed the boys contained 
cordial invitations to join the Social Brotherhood, 
signed by a “ soliciting committee,” consisting of Hart- 
ley Pember, Albert Wiswell, and Harry Archer. 

“ I thought Pember had a specially warm interest 
in us,” said Ned, as he folded up his invitation and 
replaced it in the envelope. 

“ He’s certainly a very pleasant fellow, and one 
whom I think we shall be glad to have for a friend 
and neighbor,” returned Raymond. 

“ Oh, certainly,” assented Ned. “I — what’s that? ” 
he asked, pausing abruptly. 

From the hallway came the sound of a lively scuffle, 
in the midst of which could be heard vigorous protests 
uttered in a thin, almost childish, treble. 

“ What have I done ? Hi ! Lemme go ! Lemme 
go, I say! No, I won’t go in there! Lemme go! 
I won’t, I tell you, I won’t — so there, now ! ” 

“ You needn’t buck any more,” responded a familiar 
voice. “You are going just the same. Put that in 
your pipe and smoke it.” 


26 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

Raymond and Ned were about to investigate the 
trouble, when the door of their room was uncere- 
moniously opened to admit Hartley Pember, and a 
small, bright-eyed, red-cheeked boy whom he towed 
along by the collar. 

Raymond and Ned gazed at the strange pair in 
speechless amazement. 

“ Prisoner at the bar, be seated/’ said Pember, 
swinging his diminutive companion into one of the 
rocking-chairs. “ Hi, stay right there,” he added, in 
warning tones, as the lad made a movement as if to 
escape. 

“ Lemme go,” said the boy, sullenly. 

“ In due time, Imp,” responded Pember. “ Gentle- 
men,” he added, turning to Raymond and Ned, “ let 
me make you acquainted with young Biffins — the 
Krampton baby. He is also our champion mechanical 
genius and mischief-maker. In fact, so prolific is he 
in this direction that he is generally known as Imp 
Biffins.” 

“ I’m glad to see you, Biffins,” said Raymond, cor- 
dially, extending a friendly hand, which the boy took 
somewhat diffidently, while a gleam of mischief shone 
in his blue eyes. 

“ And so am I,” added Ned. 

“ Hold on, gentlemen ! ” interposed Pember. “ Please 
don’t commit yourselves. So far as Biffins is con- 
cerned the half has never been told. He spent the 
vacation here in his den on the upper floor of this 


FIRST MEETING WITH PROFESSOR MCCLEERY 2J 

division. What mischief he accomplished no man can 
conjecture. The Imp is an industrious person, though 
I grieve to say that his zeal does not run in the chan- 
nels of the curriculum. His proper sphere is a machine- 
shop. He is a natural-born mechanic, as restless as 
a hornet, and nearly as troublesome. We relieved him 
of a full set of keys to the rooms in this division just 
before vacation. When I left your room a few minutes 
ago he was just trying one on your door. I suppose 
he’s got a full new set. Isn’t that so, Imp ? ” 

Biffins grinned, but made no reply. 

Raymond looked troubled. “ Have you a key to 
this room ? ” he asked, turning to his diminutive visitor. 

Biffins looked him in the eye with ingenuous frank- 
ness. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “Would you like it?” 

“ I should very much,” replied Raymond, somewhat 
taken back by the promptness of the offer. 

The Imp drew a large bunch of keys from his pocket. 

“ Here it is,” he said, removing one and handing 
it to Raymond. “ It’s the only one I have.” 

Raymond looked inquiringly at Pember, who nodded 
reassuringly. 

“ It’s all right, Benson,” he smiled. “ The per- 
niciousness of the Imp is something abnormal, but 
he’s thoroughly honest.” 

“ Here’s yours, too,” continued the boy, handing a 
key to Pember. “ You’d be sure to shake it out of 
me sometime, so I guess you may as well have it now.” 


28 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Thanks,” said Pember, dryly, putting the key in 
his pocket. “ Your discernment does you great credit, 
Imp.” 

“ What do you do with them? ” asked Ned, nodding 
his head at the bunch of keys which the boy held in 
his hand. 

“ Oh, nothing much. I just like to make ’em,” was 
the response. 

Pember laughed. 

“ I guess that’s so,” he said. “ We had a tutor 
last fall who roomed in one of the other divisions. 
He was an effeminate fellow, who was known among 
the boys as ‘ Miss Nancy.’ One night he got up for 
a drink of water, and discovered after he had taken 
a few swallows that some one had greased the inside 
of his pitcher with kerosene. It made him awfully 
sick. They never found out who did it; but I suspect 
the Imp could have cleared up the mystery if he had 
been so disposed.” 

Biffins grinned, but offered no comment. 

“ Come on,” said Pember. “ Let’s give the boys 
a chance to get squared away,” and with a smile he 
left the room, followed by Biffins. 


CHAPTER III 


THE ACADEMY CLUB 

The students were beginning to gather around the 
tables in the big dining-room of the Academy Club. 
There was a shuffle of feet and the sound of merry 
voices in the long, wide hall as the boys paused on 
their way to breakfast to hang their hats on its double 
row of hooks. 

Raymond and Ned, who had arrived somewhat 
ahead of the others, had already been assigned places 
by the steward on the sunny side of the room. 

“ It’s a case of first come, first served,” remarked 
Mason, with a smile, as he entered them in his book 
for the designated seats. “ Age, service or previous 
condition avails nothing here, neither are there any 
special favors bestowed by unanimous consent. There 
are only a few of the members of the club on hand 
now. Most of the boys will come to-night, and by 
to-morrow morning I expect that matters here will 
look like old times again. I hope you — ” 

“ Hello, fellows ! ” interrupted Pember, who had 
entered the room. “ How are you making it ? ” 

“ First-rate,” responded Raymond. 

“ Well, I’m glad to see you here at this table. IPs 
29 


30 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

my old stamping place. If you’ve no objection, Mason, 
I'll sit here beside Benson.” 

“ I think it can be arranged on one condition,” 
smiled the steward. 

“ And what’s that ? ” 

“ That you won’t take advantage of your favorable 
position to solicit him and Grover for the Social 
Brotherhood.” 

Pember laughed good-naturedly. 

“ Can’t do it, Mason,” he said, as he coolly took 
the desired seat. “ I’ve always said you were good 
enough to be a Socii; but as you are only a Literii, 
you mustn’t expect to commit me.” 

“ As possession is nine points of the law I don’t 
see what I can do about it,” laughed Mason ; “ but 
see here, Pember — break it to them gently. Remem- 
ber that they will hear a more interesting story later,” 
he added, as he turned away to attend to some new- 
comers in another part of the room. 

Already a good sprinkling of students were gathered 
about the long tables, and a clamor of voices mingled 
in eager greetings, and the interchange of vacation 
experiences. Pember kindly introduced Raymond and 
Ned to the boys who sat at their table, who greeted 
them with a cordiality that immediately put them at 
ease. Both boys were beginning to find genuine 
pleasure in this frank, unaffected atmosphere of good 
fellowship. 

“ I’m mighty glad you didn’t get at the faculty 


THE ACADEMY CLUB 


31 


table,” whispered Pember to Raymond, confidentially. 

“ Why, I didn’t know that the faculty boarded here,” 
said Raymond, in surprise. 

“ They don’t, as a body, but some one of them 
always takes his meals here.” 

“Why is that?” asked Ned, who had been follow- 
ing the conversation with interest. 

“ Oh, in order to serve as a ‘ horrible example ’ — 
and do police duty,” responded Pember, carelessly. 

“ Police duty ? ” echoed Raymond, inquiringly. 

“ Why, yes. He keeps the boys straight, you know, 
and saves the materials for hash.” 

“ The materials for hash? I — really, I don’t think 
I quite follow you,” said Raymond, in some perplexity. 

Pember shrugged his shoulders, and indulged in a 
quiet laugh. 

“ You will probably have a chance before the term 
is out to see what good ammunition a potato will make. 
We always have them in abundance here,” he said. 

“Yes,” interposed Harry Archer, who sat on the 
opposite side of the table. “ They are cheap and 
filling.” 

“ And also wholesome,” added Pember. “ But the 
great advantage of them to the club lies in their per- 
petual availability. You may be sure, Benson, that 
the potatoes left over to-day will turn up at breakfast 
in the form of hash. If we have boiled beets for 
dinner, it will be beet hash; if we have turnip and 
cabbage, it will be vegetable hash; if we have corned 


32 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


beef, it will be meat hash ; if fish, then it is fish hash — 
there are variations in the adjective, but the noun is 
as immovable as the pyramids. It’s hash all the time.” 

“You must take what Pember says with a grain 
of salt,” said Harry Archer, deprecatingly. “To 
me the wonder has always been how this club can 
supply such good board for two dollars a week. To 
be sure, we are a trifle shy on porterhouse steaks, and 
broiled live lobsters; but there is always an abundance 
of good fresh vegetables, poultry, butter, milk, eggs 
and — ” 

“ Hog,” interposed Pember. “ One never appre- 
ciates the great part which pork plays in our national 
life until he gets away from the railroad centers.” 

“ Don’t frighten the boys,” laughed Archer. “ Really, 
you know we have an abundance of lamb, to say nothing 
of the fresh fish at least once a week — and best of all 
everything is well cooked and served.” 

Ned looked puzzled. 

“I believe,” he said, “that you were speaking of 
the club member of the faculty as a conservator of 
hash.” 

“Oh, I was coming to that,” laughed Pember. 
“You see on days when the boys are feeling especially 
lively, and the Prof, isn’t round, there is always liable 
to be a potato fight between the side tables. I assure 
you, Benson, if you have never tried it, that a boiled 
potato is in many ways superior to a snowball.” 

“And how about the center table?” asked Ned. 


THE ACADEMY CLUB 


33 


“ Oh, that doesn’t count,” said Pember. “ The elect 
sit there and listen to the voice of wisdom.” 

“ Is that the Professor? ” asked Ned, in a low tone, 
as a tall young man entered the room and walked with 
dignified stride to a seat at the head of the center table. 

The group around the table exchanged smiles. 

“ Your mistake is a natural one,” said Pember. 
“ He looks more like a professor than any other fellow 
in the club, and — ” 

“ He’s old enough to be one,” interposed Archer. 

“ No one feels the weight of affairs more than he,” 
continued Pember, ignoring the interruption. “ Old 
Atlas himself doesn’t carry a much greater burden on 
his shoulders. That’s Ducky Bliss, the only man in 
the Academy who wears a tall silk hat.” 

“ Yes,” added Archer, “ that’s our Krampton Beau 
Brummel.” 

Raymond and Ned glanced curiously at the new- 
comer. Bliss certainly looked out of place among the 
boys in the big dining-room. He must have been in 
the neighborhood of thirty years of age. He wore 
closely-cropped side-whiskers, and a pair of gold-bowed 
“ nipper ” spectacles. His mouth was drawn down 
at the corners with sanctimonious rigor. His head 
showed a premature bald place on the crown, while 
a tightly buttoned frock coat, standing collar and white 
bow tie gave him a decidedly ministerial aspect. 

“What do you call him ‘Ducky’ for?” whispered 
Ned to Pember. 


34 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“Don’t you see?” was the response. “He’s a 
bird.” 

“ That isn’t all of it,” laughed Archer, who had 
caught the question. “ Some of the fellows heard a 
young lady friend of his — one of the gushing kind — 
apply that term to him at a levee, and it’s stuck by 
him ever since.” 

“ What’s a levee ? ” inquired Raymond, with evident 
interest. 

“ Oh, that’s a mild form of entertainment at which 
the two departments of the school — male and female — 
are allowed to meet together for a social evening in 
the Chapel Hall,” explained Pember. 

“ The fifth article is temporarily suspended on those 
occasions,” added Archer. 

“ The fifth article ? ” repeated Raymond, a little 
blankly. 

“ Excuse me,” said Archer, quickly. “ I thought 
you had read the rules and regulations. The fifth 
article prohibits any mingling of the two departments. 
You will hear all about it at Chapel to-morrow night. 
Professor Morton will lay down the law explicitly and 
at length.” 

“No trouble about the length,” growled Pember. 
“ He’s a stayer.” 

“ Hush ! ” said Archer, warningly. “ Here he comes 
now.” 

Raymond and Ned glanced around quickly at the 
young man who was just entering the room. Pro- 


THE ACADEMY CLUB 


35 


fessor Morton had been out of college but a short time, 
and looked but little older than the boys under his 
care. Indeed, Bliss was evidently his senior by at 
least four or five years. The young Professor was 
slight of build. He had pleasant blue eyes, and hair 
so light that some of the students in times of stress, 
with the irreverence born of youthful carelessness, had 
been known to call him a “ tow head.” His features 
were finely cut, and his complexion pale almost to 
sallowness. His forehead was broad and high. Com- 
bined with thin lips, a sensitive mouth and somewhat 
indecisive chin, it made up a face at once mobile, 
intelligent and scholarly. At the same time it carried 
a suggestion of effeminacy which Raymond and Ned 
came to know later was not wholly in keeping with 
the true character of the man. The great burden of 
the Professor’s existence was a diffidence, which, try 
as he might, he could not wholly shake off. It was 
probably this fact that led him to yield very cheerfully 
to Bliss a place at the table which was his by right. 
He bowed pleasantly to the students, and took his seat 
quietly on the right hand of the elegant “ Ducky.” 

A moment later Sandy Greyson came with vigorous 
swing into the dining-room, and seated himself at the 
table opposite Ned and beside Harry Archer. 

Greyson had an alert bearing, a bright eye, a heavy 
head of dark hair, somewhat inclined to curl, and a 
clear, ruddy complexion. He came of a seafaring 
people, and walked with a rolling gait acquired by 


36 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

long ocean voyages. He loved the smell of the 
salt water, and had come somewhat reluctantly to 
Krampton, in obedience to his father’s wishes. Once 
there, however, he made the best of the situation, 
while his cordial good fellowship and native abilities 
soon made him one of the most popular and influential 
boys in the Academy. 

“ Glad to see you, fellows,” he cried, cordially, in 
response to the shouted greetings of the boys in the 
dining-room. Seating himself he turned out part of 
a cup of coffee from a pot which sat near his plate, 
then rising abruptly he opened the window and threw 
it out. 

“ Some one is starting in early with that moss- 
agate,” he said, good-naturedly. 

“ What did you think you discovered ? ” inquired 
Pember. 

“ Salt. Didn’t see it till I began to pour.” 

The boys near him broke into a hearty laugh. 

“ That’s one on you, Sandy,” exclaimed Archer. 

“ Why?” 

“ Because it wasn’t salt. It was granulated sugar. 
I put it there just as you came through the door.” 

A shout of merriment greeted this announcement. 

“ Well, it’s a good plan to be on the safe side,” 
insisted Greyson, “ especially when one has to deal 
with a suspicious crowd like this.” 

Pember hastened to introduce Raymond and Ned. 

“ Mighty glad to know you, fellows,” said Sandy, 


THE ACADEMY CLUB 


3 7 


heartily, reaching a cordial hand across the table. “ I 
hope you’ll like Krampton. This year is my second 
voyage this way, and I’m just beginning to learn the 
ropes. Where do you room?” he asked, with a nod 
to Raymond. 

“ In Porter Hall.” 

“ Good enough. I’m there myself — in the first 
division. Which one are you in ? ” 

“ The third.” 

“ Be neighborly, fellows,” said Sandy, with friendly 
warmth. “ My latch-string is always out. Come in 
any time.” 

“ Thank you,” replied Raymond, cordially. “ We 
shall be glad to do so — and you must come and 
see us.” 

“ I’m afraid you wouldn’t offer me that invitation 
if you were better acquainted with me,” laughed Grey- 
son. “ I’m an awful loafer.” 

“ We’ll take all the chances,” returned Raymond, 
with a smile. He felt that both he and Ned would 
not fail to like Greyson. 

“ This butter ought to be entered in a prize-fight,” 
said Archer, presently. “ It’s strong enough to be a 
winner.” 

“What’s the matter with it?” asked Greyson. 

“ It tastes mouldy.” 

“ We ought to have good butter,” asserted Sandy. 

“ You’ll have to go to the middle table for that,” 
growled Pember. 


38 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Mr. Greyson, ,, — Professor Morton's voice sounded 
clear and sharp, while a crimson flush mantled his 
usually pale face. He had evidently overheard Pem- 
ber’s remark and attributed it to Sandy — “I am sorry 
if your butter is not good. I shall be very glad to 
exchange with you, and if anything of the kind occurs 
again I beg you will call my attention to it.” 

Two red spots glowed on Grey son’s cheeks. It was 
evident that his quick temper had asserted itself. 

“ You are very kind, sir,” he said, frigidly, and 
rising he passed to the Professor’s side, and exchanged 
the plates of butter. 

“Hold on there!” cried Bliss, angrily. “You’ve 
carried this thing about far enough.” 

“ Not yet,” returned Greyson, coldly, “ but I’ll have 
it there in a moment.” 

“ That’s what I call pretty small business,” vocifer- 
ated Bliss. 

“ Do you, indeed ? ” sneered Greyson. “ That’s not 
surprising. You are built to see things in a small 
way.” 

“ That’s right. Soak it to him, Sandy ! ” came in 
gleeful tones from Imp Bifflns, who sat facing the 
faculty representative at the left of Bliss. 

The remark appeared to arouse the Professor to 
the point of self-assertion. “ That will do, gentlemen ; 
that will do,” he said, sternly. “ Greyson, return to 
your seat. Biffins, let me hear no more from you. 
This affair is neither dignified nor creditable. We are 



“I’ll have it there in a moment.” — Page 38 
































































































































THE ACADEMY CLUB 


39 


all entitled to the same fare here. If at any time the 
food is not wholesome none of you will be required 
to eat it. While you are in this room, at least, I shall 
insist that you conduct yourselves as gentlemen.” 

Pember rose and faced the Professor. 

“ It is only proper for me to state,” he said, “ that 
it was I and not Greyson who made the remark you 
overheard in relation to the butter.” 

“ I thank you for putting me right,” said Professor 
Morton, gravely. “ I beg your pardon, Greyson, and 
now I trust we shall hear no more of this matter.” 

No further allusion was made to the subject, and 
after a few moments of constraint the conversation 
drifted into other channels, and the incident was appar- 
ently forgotten. Presently the Professor and most of 
the students finished the meal and left the dining-room. 
Only a few of the boys remained behind, most of whom 
were at the table with Raymond and Ned, where an 
animated baseball discussion had delayed the progress 
of affairs. No one remained at the table on the oppo- 
site side of the room, and Imp Biffins, who usually 
bolted his meals, held solitary sway at the faculty 
board, even Bliss, who was usually the last man to 
leave the dining-room, having passed out into the 
hallway. 

As Raymond came from his table, somewhat in 
advance of the others who had lingered there, he saw 
through the hallway Bliss standing in the sunshine of 
the open outside door, and indulging in what appeared 


40 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


to be gymnastic exercises. His silk hat, resting securely 
upon his head, appeared so much out of harmony with 
his employment that Raymond could not repress a smile. 

At the same moment a boiled potato came flying 
through the hallway, and striking the lordly Bliss on 
the bald place at the back of his head, just below his 
hat rim, was shattered into a score of pieces, while 
the treasured tile went flying through the doorway 
and lodged in the janitor's wheelbarrow, which stood 
near by, and from which it emerged a little later looking 
decidedly the worse for the experience. 


CHAPTER IV 


AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER 

“ Who threw that potato ? ” 

Ducky Bliss stood bareheaded in the doorway of 
the dining-room, white with passion, and hoarsely 
demanded this information. 

There was no response. The boys, perceiving imme- 
diately what had happened, were especially attentive 
to the meal, and appeared particularly surprised at the 
question. 

“I asked who threw that potato ?” repeated Bliss, 
with savage insistence; but still no one volunteered the 
information he sought. 

“ If I knew who it was it would be worse for him,” 
he continued, wrath fully. “ What are you laughing 
at, you monkey ? ” he demanded fiercely, catching sight 
of the amused look on Raymond’s face. 

“ That’s none of your business,” retorted Raymond, 
with spirit. 

Bliss was obviously surprised and somewhat discon- 
certed by the unexpected warmth of this response. 
He glowered at Raymond a moment in positive amaze- 
ment at his temerity. 


41 


42 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ I don’t know about that,” he snarled. “ Perhaps 
you’re the funny man who just insulted me? ” 

“ Perhaps,” returned Raymond, coolly. “ It strikes 
me, however, that you are the one who has been doing 
most of the insulting round here.” 

“ That’s right,” came in chorus from the boys who 
still remained in the dining-room. 

“ Do you know who I am ? ” demanded Bliss, in 
high dudgeon. 

“ It’s sufficient,” responded Raymond, indignantly, 
“ for me to know what you are. You are no gentle- 
man.” 

“ Give it to him straight, old fellow ! ” shouted Sandy 
Greyson, from the opposite side of the table. “ Rub 
it in. I hope his royal muttonchops will get a full 
meal.” 

The remark called forth a laugh from the boys who 
still remained in the dining-room, and exasperated Bliss 
beyond endurance. 

“ I’m no gentleman, am I, you young upstart? ” he 
foamed. “ Take that,” and with a quick movement 
he brought the flat of his hand across Raymond’s cheek 
in a resounding slap. Almost immediately he reeled 
back, from a blow in the face driven sharply home by 
a muscular arm. 

“ Hold on ! Let up ! This has gone too far ! ” came 
simultaneously from the excited group of boys who 
had gathered around Raymond and Bliss. 

Ned Grover’s arms were around his roommate, and 


AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER 43 

his voice awakened Raymond, as from a dream, to 
a humiliating sense of the situation. 

“ Hold on, old man ! Don’t lose your head,” he 
pleaded. 

“ That fellow began it,” cried Raymond, hotly. “ He 
insulted me and struck me.” 

“ Well, you appear to have got back at him all right,” 
said Ned, soothingly. 

The quickness with which the whole incident had 
occurred had dazed Raymond, as much as it had startled 
and astounded the onlookers. Bliss was struggling 
frantically in the clutches of Pember, Greyson, and 
several of the other students. 

“ Let me alone,” he shouted wildly. “ I’ll make him 
apologize. He threw that potato at me, and insulted 
me. I’ll make him retract or I’ll — I’ll kill him.” 

The blood was streaming from one of his nostrils, 
his coat was smeared with potato, and he was anything 
but an edifying spectacle. 

“ You’ll do nothing of the kind,” said Greyson, 
sharply. “ You talk like a wild man. You’ve been 
to blame in this whole matter.” 

“ I tell you — ” began Bliss. 

“ Shut up ! ” interrupted Sandy, peremptorily. 
“ You’ve said too much already.” 

And Bliss partially subsided, his face still white 
with passion. 

“ I’ll see you later,” he cried, shaking his fist at 
Raymond. 


44 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Very well. You’ll — ” 

“ Don’t talk to him, Raymond. Come away,” 
begged Ned, and taking his friend by the arm he 
hurried him across the yard to their room, followed 
by a group of the boys. 

“ Well, I suppose I’m in for it,” said Raymond, 
grimly, as the door closed behind them. “ This is 
certainly a splendid introduction to life at Krampton.” 

“ Don’t take it to heart,” said Pember, encouragingly. 
“ No one can blame you. The rest of us can all testify 
that you didn’t begin it.” 

“ I suppose this is pretty sure to come up before 
the faculty ? ” said Raymond, bitterly. 

“ I don’t see how it can help it,” admitted Harry 
Archer. “ The old man is strict, but he is fair — and 
wants to do the right thing. I’m satisfied that when 
he hears the whole story you won’t come out second 
best.” 

“ Well,” declared Ned, hopefully, “ we needn’t deal 
with that phase of the situation until it develops.” 

“ Do any of you know where that potato came 
from?” asked Raymond, reflectively. “ There were 
none on the table this morning.” 

“ Except in the hash,” corrected Pember. 

“ That goes without saying,” laughed Archer. “ It 
hadn’t occurred to me before, fellows, but Benson is 
right. That was a boiled potato. Some one must 
have saved it and brought it over in his pocket. 
Who took dinner at the club, yesterday ? ” 


AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER 


45 


“No one but Prof. Morton,” said Sandy. 

“ Yes, there was, too,” cried Pember, his face light- 
ing up with a look of comprehension. “ Imp Biffins 
was there.” 

The members of the group exchanged meaning 
glances, as a suspicion of the truth dawned upon them. 

“ Imp Biffins ! ” they all exclaimed with one voice, 
in tones of conviction. 

“ Bring him in,” urged Sandy. “ Let’s hear what 
he’s got to say for himself.” 

Several of the group, headed by Pember, rushed 
from the room, and in a short time returned with 
the struggling and expostulating Biffins. 

“ Prisoner at the bar,” said Pember, whirling him 
around by the collar in front of the group, “ are you 
guilty or not guilty ? ” 

“Of what?” 

“Throwing that potato at Bliss?” 

“ You won’t give me away if I tell it straight, will 
you, fellows ? ” asked the diminutive student, a little 
anxiously. 

“ Certainly not,” responded Raymond, speaking for 
all. “ Whatever you say shall be in the strictest con- 
fidence.” 

“ Guilty, then,” said Biffins. 

“Where did you get that potato ? ” demanded Sandy. 

“ I brought it with me in my pocket ; saved it from 
yesterday’s dinner.” 

“ Funny none of us saw you throw it,” said Ned. 


46 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“You were too busy talking baseball. I counted 
on that,” said the grinning Imp. 

“ Why didn’t you speak up and save Benson from 
getting into trouble over it ? ” asked Pember, severely. 

“ I didn’t dare to,” confessed Biffins, frankly, “ Bliss 
was so awful mad. He’d have skinned me alive.” 

“ What did you do it for, anyway ? ” questioned 
Sandy, trying hard to appear stern. 

“ I thought that silk hat of his needed christening,” 
answered the impenitent Biffins. 

The members of the group could not resist a laugh 
at this statement, in which Raymond joined a little 
ruefully. 

“ When do you have your first recitation, boys ? ” 
asked Pember. 

“ I don’t know,” returned Raymond. 

“ Haven’t you registered yet? ” 

“No. Where do we go to do that?” 

“ In the office by the ladies’ entrance. You will find 
Professor Morton there until nine o’clock, when study 
hours begin — and also Elder Burdock, the Academy 
treasurer, who will be glad to take charge of some of 
your loose change. Tuition, you know, is payable in 
advance. I’ll go over with you if you’d like.” 

“ We should be very glad if you would,” returned 
Raymond, gratefully, “ but it’s really too bad to put 
you to so much trouble.” 

“ No trouble at all. Glad to do it,” said Pember, 
warmly. “ Recitations won’t amount to anything 


AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER 


47 


to-day. The teachers merely lay out the work. The 
school year won’t really get under way till to-morrow.” 

Soon after Raymond and Ned, having signed an 
agreement to obey the rules and regulations of the 
Krampton Academy, and having paid their tuition 
fees, were duly enrolled as members of that institution 
pursuing the classical course. 

“ Don’t worry about that affair of the morning,” 
said Pember, as they returned to their room. “ It just 
occurs to me that you were not a member of the school 
then. You had not signed the rules and regulations, 
and of course were not bound by them.” 

“ I never thought of that,” replied Raymond, with 
a sigh of relief. 

“ How about Bliss?” queried Ned. 

“ Bliss ? Oh, he was bound by them all right. That 
pledge reads, ‘ so long as I shall remain a member 
thereof.’ Bliss has been here a year or two. He 
was here long before I came. He’s a mighty dis- 
agreeable fellow, and I always wondered why the 
Literiis took him in.” 

Raymond and Ned forebore to comment. Presently 
they reached their room, where Pember left them, with 
a cordial offer to afford them any further information 
or assistance that might be in his power. 

“ I didn’t like that last remark of Pember’s,” said 
Raymond, decisively, as they seated themselves on 
opposite sides of the table. 

“ Which one was that?” asked Ned. 


48 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ About Bliss being a member of the Literary Fra- 
ternity. It was intended to prejudice us against that 
society. It wasn’t quite fair, and besides — ” 

“ Besides what?” interrupted Ned. 

“ Well — it — it isn’t very pleasant to feel that your 
intelligence has been underestimated.” 

“ Bosh! ” said Ned, impatiently. “ You are getting 
supersensitive. It’s certainly no great recommendation 
to me for any society to learn that Bliss is a member 
of it. I’m sure I felt indebted to Pember for giving 
us the information.” 

“ He might have done so in a manner that would 
have made his motive less apparent,” insisted Raymond. 
“ For my part — Come in,” he called, abruptly, in 
response to a rap at the door. 

In answer to his invitation, a tall, slight young man 
entered the room. 

“ Is this Mr. Benson and Mr. Grover?” he asked, 
extending his hand to Raymond. 

“ Those are our names,” was the cordial response. 
“Won’t you take a seat?” 

“ Thank you,” said their caller, accepting the prof- 
fered chair. “ I’m a Maine boy myself — from Saco, 
in York county — and I’m always specially glad to 
meet fellows here from my native State. My name 
is Torsey.” 

“ We are very glad to see you, Mr. Torsey,” said 
Ned. “ I take it you are an old student here.” 

“ Yes. I am in my senior year. I suppose you 


AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER 


49 


have already been approached on the society question,” 
he added, after a pause, 

“ Yes,” replied Raymond, “ We have invitations 
from the Social Brotherhood.” 

“ I hope you have not pledged.” 

“ No,” said Raymond. “ We thought we would 
take time enough to become somewhat familiar with 
the situation before we made any move.” 

“ That is a very wise decision,” was Torsey’s com- 
ment. “ I am not going to tell you that my society 
is vastly superior to the other, for it would not be 
true. Both are good organizations. The debates in 
each are open to the members of both societies, and 
boys who participate with interest and earnestness in 
the work of either are sure of obtaining a very valuable 
training. All I ask of you is to look the Literary 
Fraternity over carefully before reaching any decision.” 

“We shall certainly do that,” asserted Raymond, 
positively. 

“ Thank you ! ” returned Torsey. “ That’s all we 
can ask. I feel confident, however, that when you are 
familiar with the situation you will decide to become 
members of our society.” 

He paused and coughed nervously. 

“ Of course,” he resumed, hesitatingly, and with 
some evident embarrassment, “ where all the boys in 
school are members of one society or the other, it is 
impossible for the membership of either to be wholly 
unobjectionable. There are undesirable fellows in both 


50 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

societies — though I am glad to say that the number 
of them is not large. I don’t think there is much 
difference in this respect.” 

Raymond looked him full in the face. 

“You have heard of the affray in the club dining- 
room this morning?” he asked, abruptly. 

“Yes,” admitted Torsey. “ Some of our boys were 
there, and afterwards went to your room with you. 
From what they tell me Bliss was wholly to blame.” 

“ No,” declared Raymond, “ not wholly. Unfor- 
tunately I have a quick temper. He started me a little, 
and I spoke more sharply than there was any excuse 
for. I don’t blame him for being hot over the potato 
episode, and I should have been broad enough to have 
made some allowance for his state of mind. As it 
was I allowed my temper to get the better of me.” 

“ You were not to blame for resenting an uncalled 
for and inexcusable insult,” protested Torsey, warmly. 
“ Almost any fellow of spirit would have done that. 
I trust, however, that you will not allow any unfavor- 
able feeling you may entertain — and properly so — 
regarding Bliss to prejudice you against our society.” 

“ Not at all,” said Raymond, hastily, with a sug- 
gestion of resentment in his tone. “ I may not join 
your society; but if not, I assure you it will not be 
on account of Bliss.” 

“And Mr. Grover?” said Torsey, inquiringly. 

“Must speak for himself,” returned Raymond. 

“ There is no occasion for it,” said Ned, smiling. 


AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER 5 1 

“Benson has expressed my views on the subject very 
fully.’’ 

“ Then we hope to see you at pur meeting Thursday 
evening,” said Torsey, as he paused in the doorway. 

“ Certainly,” responded Raymond, — “that is, unless 
they have me suspended on the faculty hooks.” 

“ I don’t think there is any serious danger of that,” 
replied Torsey, with a smile, as he passed into the hall. 

“ What do you think of him ? ” asked Raymond, 
when their visitor had gone. 

“ I like him.” 

“ So do I. He talked very fairly, and I couldn’t 
help feeling that he stated things about as they are. 
Pember’s a good fellow; but it seems to me that he 
is disposed to be a little too — too — ” 

“ Giddy,” suggested Ned. 

“ No, enthusiastic. He puts his whole heart and 
soul into everything he is connected with.” 

“ Such fellows are pretty good ones to tie to,” 
observed Ned, with conviction. 

“ In a way,” admitted Raymond, “ but their judg- 
ment is not always to be depended upon.” 

“ I’ll take my chances with it,” insisted Ned. 

At nine o’clock they attended their first lesson in 
Latin in a recitation-room in the main part of the 
Chapel building. Miss Meader, the lady principal, 
was the teacher, and both Raymond and Ned felt con- 
vinced that they should enjoy their work under her 
instruction. 


52 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

At eleven o’clock they climbed to the third floor of 
the building to take up the study of Greek under 
Professor Morton. They were much impressed with 
the scholarly attainments of this young man, a fact 
which was in every way creditable to their discernment. 
Poorer teachers of the classics were at that very time 
holding down Latin and Greek chairs in a number of 
the New England colleges. 

At three o’clock they met in a large room on the first 
floor of the same building for recitation in geometry. 
Professor McCleery presided over this class, and the 
boys were quick to perceive the strong force of his 
personality as well as the wonderful mental grasp and 
clearness which had won him an honorable place among 
the leading educators of the day. 

At half past four the whole school, so far as it had 
reported, was assembled in the big Chapel hall for 
prayers, the boys being seated on one side, and the 
girls on the other side of the wide central aisle. 

Prior to the services, some time was spent by Pro- 
fessor McCleery in reading the rules of the Academy 
and explaining their bearing. 

The fifth article read as follows : “ The members 

of the two departments are strictly prohibited from 
associating together by way of calls, walks, rides, etc., 
except by special permission of the faculty, and from 
holding protracted conversations.” 

The boys also learned that study hours were from 
9 A. M. till 12, and from 1.30 to 4.30 P. M., and 


AN UNFORTUNATE ENCOUNTER 


53 


after 7.30 in the evening. During these hours students, 
when not in attendance upon recitations, were required 
to be in their own rooms. 

Students were also required to observe the Sabbath 
in a suitable manner, and punctually to attend public 
worship at least once during the day; to attend the 
regular exercises of the Academy; to refrain from the 
use of intoxicating drinks, playing at cards, dice or 
other games of chance; to abstain from the use of 
tobacco in all its forms on the premises of the insti- 
tution, and to use nothing but respectful language to 
or in reference to members of faculty or other officers 
of the institution. 

At the close of these exercises Raymond and Ned 
began to feel that they were, indeed, students of 
Krampton Academy. 

The big coaches from Dicksville arrived soon after, 
loaded with students, who were cordially received by 
the old students already on the ground. 

The little village took on new life and animation, 
and the Academy year was fully under way. 


CHAPTER V 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 

“ Put ’em right along, old man. Ah, that’s a peach ! ” 

Ned Grover straightened up with the ball which 
Raymond had just pitched to him, and wiped the per- 
spiration from his face with his handkerchief. 

He and Raymond were having a little early morning 
practice together in the rear of Porter Hall, and were 
wholly unconscious of the fact that a number of spec- 
tators were watching their movements, with that eager 
interest that always attaches to the movements of new- 
comers in a preparatory school or college who show 
indications of athletic prowess. 

Raymond smiled at his roommate’s enthusiasm. 

“ I have my speed, but you see I can’t control the 
ball,” he said. “You have had about all the hard 
work so far. I’ve kept you moving about like a jump- 
ing-jack. I only wish I could pitch half as well as 
you catch.” 

" Nonsense,” returned Ned, his face nevertheless 
flushing with pleasure at the compliment. “ I think 
you must have kissed the Blarney Stone sometime.” 

“ I mean it,” insisted Raymond. 

“ I owe you one for that,” laughed Ned, good- 
54 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 55 

humoredly. “ Now if you only had a few curves to 
go with your speed you could fool the best of them. 
Let's try that out-shoot again." 

" I can’t get it," said Raymond, despondingly. “ I 
wish I had some one to show me. I’d rather have 
ten minutes from a man who can throw curves than 
all the written instructions and diagrams that have 
ever been printed." 

“ That’s so," assented Ned. “ Still, you know lots 
of fellows have mastered them with nothing but the 
books to go by. It will be a very important part of 
your education here," he added, dryly. 

“ I don’t think you need be discouraged, boys. You 
are doing finely. Perhaps I can help you a little." 

Raymond and Ned turned in some surprise to meet 
the good-natured look of a sunburned, smooth-faced 
young man, who was stretched indolently upon the 
back step of the dormitory. He had evidently been 
watching their practice from the shadow of the big 
building, and must necessarily have overheard their 
conversation. A quick shade of annoyance passed over 
Raymond’s face. 

“ I didn’t know we had an audience," he said, 
shortly. 

The stranger indulged a quiet chuckle. 

“ I didn’t intend you should," he returned, frankly. 

“No?” said Ned, inquiringly. 

“ No," repeated the stranger, with twinkling eyes. 
“ I wanted to see your work at its normal gait, without 


56 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

frills or furbelows or dress parade. I assure you I 
have enjoyed it very much. ,, 

“ Thank you,” returned Raymond, briefly. 

“ Oh, don’t mention it. You are entirely welcome,” 
replied the stranger, cheerfully. “ Don’t stop on my 
account,” he added, as he rose slowly from his seat. 
“ I throw a few curves myself sometimes.” 

The boys looked at him with a new interest. 

“Do you?” asked Raymond, eagerly. 

“ Yes, and I should be very glad to show you what 
little I know about it,” continued the stranger, as he 
strolled leisurely towards them. 

He was a tall, wiry-built fellow, with long arms and 
broad shoulders; but with the first step the boys saw 
that he walked with a painful limp. “ I’m a cripple, 
you see,” he announced, cheerfully. 

Raymond and Ned were silent, not knowing what 
rejoinder to make. The stranger, however, saw the 
sympathy that shone in their eyes. 

“ Oh, it’s only temporary, I hope,” he hastened to 
assure them. “ I think I shall be as good as new in 
a few weeks.” 

“ I certainly hope so,” said Raymond, heartily. 

“ And so do I,” added Ned, with equal warmth. 

“ And now if you will kindly loan me that ball,” 
continued their new friend, “I will pitch a while to 
your chum here. If you will stand behind me, you 
can, I think, see them break,” he added. “ Have you 
ever caught curves?” he inquired, turning to Ned. 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 


57 


“ No, I never even saw one thrown,” was the frank 
rejoinder. 

“ Perhaps then I had better throw you a few straight 
ones at the start. I see that you take a ball easily and 
gracefully; but you will excuse me for saying that 
you have one fault that is very common with young 
catchers. It is one, however, that may easily be over- 
come with practice.” 

“What’s that?” demanded Ned. 

“ A disposition to fight the ball — or in other words 
to catch it just a little before it gets to you. It will 
also help you to meet it with your arms well forward. 
This will give you an opportunity for a little backward 
swing in receiving it, that will go very far to break 
the force of the contact. It is a trick that professional 
catchers have down very fine.” 

“ I see,” assented Ned, gratefully. 

“ Have you ever seen professional catchers work ? ” 
asked Raymond, a little incredulously. 

The stranger gave him a quizzical smile. 

“ Yes, nearly all of the best ones, I think,” he said. 

“ I’d give ’most anything to see a professional ball 
game,” continued Raymond, with enthusiasm. 

“ You must plan to slip up to Boston next summer 
and take in a few of them,” said the stranger. 

“ I would like to very much,” admitted Raymond. 

“ All ready,” said the stranger, turning to Ned, and 
a moment later a swift, straight ball settled into the 
boy’s outstretched mitt. 


58 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Very good/’ was the stranger’s approving com- 
ment. “ I think we shall have no serious difficulty in 
making a catcher out of you.” 

Raymond watched the easy, graceful swing of the 
stranger with open admiration. 

“ I’d give a good deal if I had your movement,” 
was his hearty comment. 

“ I fancy you will acquire it with considerable less 
practice,” answered the stranger, with a smile. “ I 
think it comes more naturally to you than it did to me.” 

“ I fear not.” 

“ Try and try again will do wonders, especially in 
baseball,” persisted the stranger. “ Now we’ll try a 
few out-shoots,” he added to Ned. 

An exclamation of wonder broke from Raymond 
as the ball took a sharp twist, and passed Ned, who 
did not even get a hand upon it, and who stood look- 
ing after it in open-mouthed surprise. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” laughed the stranger. 

“ It dodged me. I wasn’t quick enough,” admitted 
Ned, with evident chagrin. 

“ You were quick enough, but you didn’t judge it 
properly. All that will come, however, with experience 
and practice,” said the stranger, reassuringly. “ Let’s 
try it again. I’ll start it a little further in, and have 
it come about where you stand.” 

This time Ned succeeded in stopping the ball; but 
it bounced from his hands and fell a short distance 
to the side. 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 


59 


“ Try that again, and I’ll see if I can’t hang onto it,” 
he said grimly, as he returned the ball to the pitcher. 

This time the sphere nestled securely in Ned’s hands. 

“ Bravo ! ” was the stranger’s comment. “ You are 
coming finely.” 

“ How do you throw them ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ It’s all in the turn of the wrist with the delivery,” 
explained the stranger. “ I think you get a broader 
curve to put the whole arm into the twist. You hold 
the ball firmly with the first two fingers, and let it roll 
off the side of the forefinger in delivery. The greater 
the arm twist the wider the curve, and the greater the 
speed with which you throw it the nearer it will get 
to the batsman before the curve, or break, as it is called, 
begins, and the more difficult it is for him to judge. 
In fact the greater speed in delivery is practically what 
constitutes the difference between what is called a curve 
and a shoot. A broad, slow curve doesn’t very often 
deceive an experienced batsman.” 

He showed Raymond carefully how to hold the ball, 
and how to get the twist in delivery. “ Now you 
have the principle,” he said. “ The rest is a matter 
of practice. Don’t be discouraged if you don’t acquire 
the knack right off. It is sure to come with a little 
persistence.” 

“ But there are other curves, aren’t there?” ques- 
tioned Raymond. 

The stranger laughed. 

“ One at a time, my boy,” he said. “ When you’ve 


6o 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


mastered the out-curve, we’ll try the in, the rise, and 
the drop. Later on we’ll try the combinations.” 

“ The combinations ? ” repeated Raymond, inquir- 
ingly. 

“ Yes, the in-rise and the out-drop. There are two 
ways also of throwing a plain rise.” 

“ How’s that?” asked Ned. 

“ Why, either underhand or overhand. The former 
is especially hard to control; but a pitcher who has 
thoroughly mastered it can often use it with telling 
effect.” 

“ I should be glad to have — ,” Raymond paused a 
little diffidently. 

“ Me throw some of the other curves ? ” concluded 
the stranger, with a smile. “ I shall be very glad to. 
For the present, however, it will be best to confine 
your practice to the plain out.” 

A succession of shoots and curves — ins, drops, and 
rises — followed, only a few of which Ned succeeded 
in stopping, to his very obvious discomfiture. 

“ A barn door would be a great improvement on me,” 
he exclaimed, disgustedly. “ Raymond may make a 
pitcher; but it’s very evident that I never was cut out 
for a catcher.” 

“ On the contrary, I think you have the making of 
a very good one,” declared the stranger. “ I guess 
this will do for the present,” he added. “ I shall be 
glad to work with you again.” 

“ Oh, will you ? ” exclaimed Raymond, gratefully. 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 


6l 


“ I will, indeed. When you have learned all the 
curves, and can throw them with speed and command, 
you will be ready to study the second part of the great 
subject of pitchology.” 

“ Pitchology ? ” echoed Ned, inquiringly. 

“ Yes,” laughed the stranger. “ It’s a study that 
isn’t down in the curriculum, and yet you will find 
that it plays a very important part in a Krampton 
education.” 

“ I see,” said Ned, with a grin. 

“ But what is the second part of the subject? ” asked 
Raymond, eagerly. 

“ Strategy, or, as it is called, the science of fooling 
the batsman. This involves change of pace, the mixing 
up of curves, coolness and deliberation in delivery, an 
ability to perceive a batsman’s weaknesses — and almost 
all of them have them — and then make the most of 
them/’ 

“ I see,” said Raymond. “ It’s the ability to deter- 
mine what the batsman is looking for — and give him 
something else.” 

“ That’s it exactly,” assented the stranger. “ It’s 
an art that must be acquired principally in practice, 
although a few general suggestions will be of value 
to a young pitcher, and he will always derive benefit 
from watching the work of an experienced and skilful 
man in the box.” 

The ringing of the nine o’clock study bell cut short 
further conversation. 


62 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“Are you a student?” inquired Raymond, as he 
and Ned started for their room. 

“ Not now,” replied the stranger, and Raymond 
fancied there was a note of sadness in his tone. 

“We are ever so much obliged to you for your 
kindness this morning,” said Raymond, hurriedly. 

“ Don’t mention it,” replied the stranger, cordially, 
as they parted at the steps. “ I trust I shall have the 
pleasure of working with you often.” 

“ Well, what did you think of him? ” asked Pember, 
as they passed him in the hallway. 

“ Think of whom ? ” asked Raymond, wonderingly. 

“ Why, Cy Devons, the fellow who has been coach- 
ing you and Grover this morning.” 

“ Cy Devons,” repeated Raymond, in amazement. 
“You don’t mean — !” 

“The Chicago National League pitcher?” inter- 
rupted Pember. “ Certainly, it was. Didn’t you know 
him?” 

“ I’m sure I didn’t,” said Raymond, with emphasis. 

“How does he come here?” asked Ned, in a tone 
of incredulity. 

“ Why, he lives here. He’s a graduate of Kramp- 
ton — used to pitch on our team,” replied Pember, a 
little impatiently. “ He always coaches our pitchers 
winters. He’s a Socii,” he added, with a sudden burst 
of inspiration. 

“ How did you know he was coaching us ? ” demanded 
Ned, suspiciously. He had heard of the practical jokes 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 63 

that were sometimes played at Krampton, and the 
thought flashed through his mind that possibly the 
genial Pember was making sport of them. 

“ Why, all the fellows have been watching you from 
the windows for the past half-hour. We’d have been 
down there in a body if we had felt sure that you and 
Grover would have stood for it.” 

Raymond flushed. “ I didn’t know that we were 
entertaining the crowd,” he said. “ There are doubt- 
less many better ball players than we are at Krampton.” 

“ I’m not so sure of that,” responded Pember, with 
a heartiness that convinced Raymond of his sincerity, 

“ But how does Cy Devons happen to be a cripple ? ” 
pursued Ned, who was not yet fully satisfied that he 
and Raymond had actually been in practice with a 
player whose name was familiar to every lover of the 
great national game throughout the country. 

“ Don’t you remember that he was badly spiked in 
the great fifteen-inning game at Boston six weeks 
ago?” 

“ Seems to me I did read something about that,” 
assented Ned. 

“ Well, he came straight home from there, and has 
been here ever since. I don’t believe he has even had 
a baseball in his hand before this morning since his 
injury. He’s an odd sort of a chap; but good as gold. 

I really think you fellows must have made a very favor- 
able impression on him by the way he took hold with 
you. Looks like a cinch for you.” 


64 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Where does he live ? ” asked Raymond, in whose 
estimation Cy Devons had suddenly become a very real 
and important personage. 

“ Oh, on a little farm in the outskirts of the village. 
They say he paid off quite a mortgage on it with 
his first professional earnings. He’s well fixed now. 
Lives with his old father and mother, and I guess he 
foots about all the bills.” 

“ He didn’t go into the National League from the 
Krampton team, did he?” queried Ned. 

“ No, he had two seasons, I believe, in the New 
England League. He was a winner, though, from 
the start.” 

By this time Raymond and Ned had reached the 
door, and Pember left them with a parting injunction 
to be sure and attend the meeting of the Social 
Brotherhood Friday evening. 

Now that the work of the term was actually under 
way, there was some rearrangement in the order of 
their studies. The first recitation of the day was in 
algebra, and came in the Mathematical room on the 
lower floor of the Chapel building. Here Raymond 
and Ned made the acquaintance of Miss Bunce, a 
teacher whose beauty of character, devoted zeal and 
practical common sense were destined to exert upon 
them both — as indeed it did upon all who enjoyed 
the privilege of association with this truly beautiful 
woman — a strong and helpful influence. 

Raymond and Ned went forth from that recitation 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 65 

feeling that Miss Bunce would henceforth number 
them among her boys, and would feel a warm personal 
interest in their welfare. 

At 1.30 they climbed a flight of stairs in the same 
building — in which were located all of the recitation- 
rooms outside of the commercial department — for 
their second recitation in Latin to Miss Meader, the 
lady Principal, whom they were already coming to 
recognize as a teacher of rare gifts and attractive per- 
sonality. 

“ We are gradually ascending the hill of knowledge, ,, 
laughed Raymond, as they climbed to Professor Mor- 
ton’s recitation-room on the top floor of the building 
at 3.30 that afternoon for their second recitation in 
Greek. “We were on the ground floor this morning, 
We gained a flight at our next appearance, and now 
we are welcomed to the — ” 

“ Nigger heaven,” prompted Ned. 

“ Away, scoffer ! ” returned Raymond, with mock 
indignation. “ I was about, to say Olympic heights ; 
but I fear that Prof. Morton wouldn’t fit very well 
into the analogy.” 

“ Just wait and see,” responded Ned. “ The boys 
say he is really a great teacher in the classics.” 

“ I hope that may be the case,” said Raymond, and 
it may be added that both boys were soon willing to 
coincide in the general opinion of Professor Morton’s 
teaching abilities. 

The second day, which marked the real beginning 


66 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


of the winter term, was a fair sample of the routine 
work of the Academy in its classical course, with the 
exception that higher arithmetic replaced algebra two 
days in the week, while every alternate Wednesday 
afternoon the whole school was assembled for an hour 
in the Chapel hall to listen to rhetorical exercises. 

At 4.30 each afternoon, save Saturday, which was 
a holiday, all the pupils of the Academy were sum- 
moned by the big bell to the hall of the Chapel, where 
the girls were seated upon one side and the boys upon 
the other of the big central aisle, to listen to devotional 
exercises, consisting of a brief Scripture reading, fol- 
lowed by a short prayer. As this was the only time 
during the day that all the members of the Academy 
were together, the occasion was usually improved to 
make any announcements or explanations that were 
necessary to supplement the notices upon the bulletin- 
boards at either entrance to the Chapel building. 

Raymond had an uncomfortable feeling as he sat 
in Chapel for the second time that many eyes were 
turned upon him. He attributed this wholly to his 
encounter with Bliss, for he had yet to learn the 
interest that attached to a promising ball player among 
Krampton students, and had forgotten the service ren- 
dered his fellow students on the trip from Dicksville. 
He felt hot and uncomfortable, and was conscious of 
a positive sense of relief when his name was called 
among those who were requested to remain at the close 
of the exercises. 


RAYMOND AND NED MEET CY DEVONS 67 


“ I’m glad it's come,” he whispered to Ned. “ The 
sooner this matter is threshed out the better it will 
suit me.” 

“ Don’t you worry about it,” returned Ned. “ Keep 
a stiff upper lip, and you’ll be sure to come out all 
right.” 


CHAPTER VI 


A SESSION WITH THE FACULTY 

“ Well, what did the old man say to you? Tell me 
all about it,” said Ned, eagerly, as Raymond entered 
the room after a session with the Academy faculty at 
its regular Wednesday evening meeting. 

“ There isn’t very much to tell,” said Raymond. 
“ Bliss and I were both there and told our stories.” 

“ I thought some of us who saw the affair would 
have been summoned in to testify. That would only 
have been fair,” was Ned’s indignant comment. 

“ There was really no need of it. There was no 
great difference in our stories. Bliss may be a cad, 
but I’m bound to say he isn’t a liar. Of course he 
was very sure that I threw the potato, although he 
admitted that he didn’t see me do it. He acknowledged 
that he struck the first blow with his fist, but claimed 
that I commenced the assault without provocation when 
I basted him with the potato from the dining-room.” 

“ And you? ” 

" Denied his charge, and gave my version of the 
affair. I told them also that I was prepared to prove 
what I said by a number of the fellows.” 

“ What did the faculty say to that ? ” 

68 


A SESSION WITH THE FACULTY 69 

“ Not a word. Prof. McCleery wrote down the 
names I gave him, and the fellows will probably hear 
from him later.” 

“And then?” 

“ He excused Bliss.” 

“ Well, I declare! ” exclaimed Ned. “ Let the sneak 
go without a word, did he ? ” 

“ Well, not exactly. He invited him to come to his 
study at 9 o’clock this evening. I rather guess he 
intends to read him the riot act.” 

“ I shan’t have any respect for him if he doesn’t,” 
declared Ned, emphatically. “What did they say to 
you when Bliss had gone ? ” 

“ Prof. McCleery told me that he had heard of the 
affair on the stage-coach, and wanted to thank me in 
behalf of the school for the part I had borne in it.” 

Ned gave a whistle pf surprise. 

“ That was funny, wasn’t it ? ” he said. “ What 
did you say to that ? ” 

“ Why, I told him it wasn’t worth mentioning, that 
it seemed the only thing to do, and I had as much at 
stake as any of the rest of them.” 

Raymond paused, and turned towards the study table. 

“ Go on,” said Ned, impatiently. “ I never saw 
mch an exasperating fellow. What did he say to 
:hat? ” 

“ Nothing much. He remarked that not every one 
would have been nervy and quick-witted enough to 
act in such a case, or something of the sort. That 


70 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

was the gist of it. Then he went on to say that he 
was specially sorry to hear of my affray with Bliss 
after the favorable opinion he had formed of me.” 

“ And you? ” 

“ I told him the row wasn’t one of my seeking ; 
that I didn’t go around with a chip on my shoulder.” 
Raymond was silent for a moment. “ I’ll not stand 
a blow from any fellow, though, without punching him 
back at least once,” he added, presently, “ and I made 
no bones of telling them so.” 

“ Good for you,” said Ned, giving his roommate 
an approving slap on the shoulder. “ I admire your 
spunk.” 

“ Prof. McCleery thought I might have avoided the 
whole trouble if I’d shown a little more tact,” continued 
Raymond, slowly. “ Of course Bliss was pretty warm 
under the collar, and I don’t know that I blame him 
very much.” 

“ Rats ! ” was Ned’s sententious comment. “ What 
if he was hot? That doesn’t excuse him for shooting 
off his mouth in that reckless fashion. I’m mighty 
glad you slugged him — I am, ’pon my soul. Perhaps 
it will take a little starch out of that conceit of his.” 

“ You’re wrong, old fellow,” said Raymond, with 
decision. “ I’m not sorry that I returned his blow ; 
but I regret that I said anything to provoke him to it.” 

“ There’s nothing to regret so far as you are con- 
cerned,” insisted Ned. “ I tell you that man is a 
poultice. He needs to be plastered.” 


A SESSION WITH THE FACULTY 7 1 

“ Prof. McCleery was kind enough to say that he 
didn’t question my statement of facts,” resumed Ray- 
mond, after a pause. “ He asked me, however, if I 
knew who really did throw the potato.” 

“ He had you there.” 

“ Well, rather. I told him I did; but I could not tell. 
He insisted that I should — in fact he demanded it.” 

“ Well, that was interesting.” 

“ I told him finally that I had obtained the infor- 
mation, after the incident was over, under a promise 
not to tell, and that I didn’t think he’d want me to 
open up my studies at Krampton with an elementary 
course in lying.” 

Ned looked at his roommate with an admiring grin. 

“ How did he wiggle out of that? ” he asked. 

“ I thought I caught a twinkle in the eyes of some 
of the other teachers, as if they rather enjoyed the 
situation, but Prof. McCleery never changed a hair. 
He remarked that a bad promise was usually better 
broken than kept; but said he wouldn’t insist on my 
giving him the information in this instance; that he 
thought he could find it out easily enough.” 

“ But you wouldn’t have told him, even if you hadn’t 
promised,” remarked Ned, with conviction. 

“ Certainly not,” assented Raymond ; “ but I thought 
I wouldn’t raise that question as long as he didn’t.” 

“ That was right,” said Ned, approvingly. “ Never 
cross any bridges till you get to them; but go on with 
your story, old man. What happened then ? ” 


72 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Prof. McCleery read me the rule governing the 
relations of pupils with one another, and asked me 
if I had forgotten it.” 

Ned threw back his head and indulged a hearty 
laugh. “ Well, that was a piece of plum pudding for 
you, wasn’t it? ” 

“ Well, I rather thought so,” replied Raymond, “ and 
it seemed to strike the other teachers that way if I 
could judge from the broad smile that went around 
the circle — they sit around the sides of the council 
chamber, you know, at a faculty meeting, like wall 
flowers at a Chestnut husking. The chairs for the 
prisoners at the bar stand in the center of the room. 
After Bliss went out I picked mine up and moved it 
into a vacant space between the windows. I felt a 
little more at home, after that — especially with Miss 
Bunce on one side of me, and the lady principal on the 
other.” 

“ Go on,” said Ned, approvingly. “ I admire your 
nerve. What did you say to the rule? The Prof 
didn’t tumble to his break, did he ? ” 

“ No, though I certainly thought he would when 
that little roly-poly Professor Prescott, from the com- 
mercial college, snickered. He smothered it, however, 
in a cough, which gave him an excuse for covering his 
face with his handkerchief.” 

“ I think that man’s a brick,” was Ned’s enthusiastic 
comment. “ How did you let the old boy down ? ” 

“ I told him that I certainly hadn’t forgotten the 


A SESSION WITH THE FACULTY 73 

rule, inasmuch as I never had seen or heard of it at 
the time of my trouble at the club. He looked at me 
over the top of his glasses, and then I reminded him 
that I was not actually a member of the Academy 
when I had the scrap with Bliss; that I hadn’t even 
registered at that time.” 

“ That must have phased him a little,” laughed Ned. 

“ I fancy it did a trifle. He ran his fingers nervously 
through his hair a couple of times, remarked that my 
point was merely technical — whatever that means — 
that the faculty would take the whole matter under 
consideration, and then bowed me out of the room 
with an abruptness that fairly startled me. I didn’t 
know but that he was mad about it; but as I passed 
around under the windows I heard the whole crowd 
of them laughing, and I’m pretty sure that his voice 
was leading the chorus.” 

“ I don’t believe you’ll hear any more from it,” 
declared Ned, with conviction. “ The old man can put 
on a good front; but his heart is in the right place. 
I’ll bet his sympathies were with you.” 

“ Come in,” called Raymond, in answer to a knock. 

The door opened to admit a tall, thin, dark-com- 
plexioned young man, with small, piercing eyes, sharp 
features and a tousled head of coarse black hair, that 
nearly covered a somewhat low and retreating fore- 
head. 

He stood in the center of the room and looked 
intently from Raymond to Ned. 


74 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Glad to see you, fellows,” he said, cordially. 

“ Won’t you sit down?” asked Ned, with a won- 
dering glance at his roommate. 

“Thanks ! Don’t care if I do,” was the response of 
the newcomer, and seating himself in a vacant rocker 
he lazily stretched a pair of long, thin legs toward the 
fire, that was burning in the Franklin stove. 

“Getting pretty well settled?” he asked. 

“ Very nicely, thank you,” responded Raymond. 

“ Glad to hear it,” pursued the stranger. “ Made 
a mistake though in coming into the dormitory.” 

“Why so?” demanded Raymond. 

“ Why, a fellow is tied to the faculty apron-strings 
here. They’re spying on him all the time.” 

“ Where would you have us go ? ” asked Raymond, 
with a curious look at their guest. 

“ Oh, to some good private house. There are a 
number of nice places in the village.” 

“We thought this would be a good place at the 
start to get acquainted and learn the ropes,” said Ned. 

“ Yes, yes, I know,” returned the caller, with a sage 
shake of his head. “ Most new fellows think that. 
It doesn’t take them long, though, to learn their mis- 
take. A term or two generally winds them up here — 
that is, if they have any blood, and I take it you are 
that sort,” he continued, with a searching glance at 
Raymond, who was conscious of feeling very uncom- 
fortable. Could it be possible that every one had heard 
of his trouble with Bliss? 


A SESSION WITH THE FACULTY 75 

“We certainly have no kites to fly/’ he said, coldly. 
“We came here for work.” 

“ Certainly, certainly,” said the visitor, affably. 
“ Good resolutions are always appropriate in the early 
part of the school year. I rather expect to see you 
turn up with the boys, though, before its close. I 
rather fancy from what I’ve observed that you are 
built that way.” 

“ What class do you belong to, Mr. — ” Ned paused, 
inquiringly. 

“ Crutchon — Richard Crutchon,” replied their visi- 
tor. “ I’m not a member of the school, although I 
am on pretty good terms with many of the students. 
I live here in town. It’s a good plan, boys, to know 
a few of the fellows on the outside. I’ve helped many 
a Krampton student out of difficulties before now. 
Incidentally, I’ve had a few good times myself. In 
fact I’ve led the members of the faculty here a number 
of merry chases.” 

He rested his face in his hands, and indulged a 
meditative laugh. 

“ I’ll never forget the time old Prof Bruin chased 
me up the village street one evening under the impres- 
sion that I was a student out on a lark after study 
hours,” he said. “ I took a short cut around behind 
Elder Bradley’s hen-house, and about the time he 
reached the rear of it I stalked out on the other side, 
grabbed him by the collar, and charged him with 
stealing the Parson’s chickens.” 


76 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Raymond and Ned could not restrain a smile at the 
narrative, as their visitor again paused and gave vent 
to a chuckle. 

“ You should have seen the front I put on,” he 
resumed, “ and the righteous indignation I threw into 
my tones. I tell you the Prof was scared; he was, 
for a fact. You should have heard the way he tried 
to explain ; but I cut him off short — wouldn’t listen 
to a word. Told him his conduct was simply scan- 
dalous, and that it was my bounden duty to get him 
into jail before the neighbors turned out and lynched 
him.” 

Raymond and Ned found themselves joining in the 
contagious laugh with which their visitor honored his 
own narrative. 

“ How did it come out?” “What followed?” they 
asked, almost in a breath. 

“ Oh, I finally relented and let him go — with a 
warning never to be caught in such knavery again. 
Poor old Johnnie!” he added, reflectively. “He’s 
gone now. He was a good man, and was said to be 
a fine teacher; but Nature certainly never designed him 
for a detective.” 

A number of humorous and interesting anecdotes 
of various pranks and adventures followed, and the 
boys found themselves almost unconsciously warming 
towards their visitor, who was certainly an amusing 
and entertaining fellow. 

The evening was well advanced when he finally 


A SESSION WITH THE FACULTY 77 

paused, and turned with an air of apology to Ray- 
mond. 

“ Can you tell me what time it is ? ” he asked. 
“ I fear it is getting late. I declare, when I get to 
reminiscing I never know when to stop.” 

“ It’s half past ten,” said Raymond, looking at his 
watch. 

“ Well, good-night, boys. I wish you pleasant 
dreams,” and Crutchon bowed himself out, followed 
by an invitation from Raymond and Ned to come again. 

“ I thought I shouldn’t like him when he first came 
in,” said Raymond, after he was gone ; “ but he seems 
to be a very pleasant fellow.” 

“ Yes,” acquiesced Ned. “ He’s like a singed cat — 
a good deal better than he looks.” 

As the boys were on their way to breakfast the 
following morning they met Pember, who informed 
them with evident gratification that Bliss was on five 
o’clock probation for the remainder of the term. 

“ What’s that ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ Why, he isn’t allowed to be out of his room after 
five o’clock in the afternoon, except to go directly to 
and from his supper. Isn’t that a cold bath for him ? ” 

“ I’m sorry,” said Raymond. “ I suppose he will 
lay it to me.” 

“ Very likely. That’s about his size.” 

“How did you hear about it?” asked Ned. 

“ Oh, his roommate told me. I guess Professor 
McCleery gave him a great call-down last night.” 


78 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Very likely he will give me the same dose/’ said 
Raymond, gloomily. 

“No, I think not. The Prof had some of us down 
to his house after the faculty meeting, and of course 
we told him the whole story.” 

“ I hope nobody gave Biffins away,” said Ned. 

“ You may be sure we didn’t,” declared Pember. 

“ All the same I think the Prof suspects him. Most 
of the mischief at Krampton, not otherwise accounted 
for, is laid to Biffins — and most of the time he’s 
responsible for it.” 

That evening Raymond and Ned attended the meet- 
ing of the Literary Fraternity. The programme con- 
sisted of essays, declamations, a paper devoted largely 
to “ grinds ” on the older students, which were the 
occasion of no little laughter, and a debate upon the 
question, “ Resolved, That the Navy Has Done More 
to Promote the Country’s Greatness than the Army.” 
Quite a number of students participated in the dis- 
cussion of this question, which at times became quite 
animated, and fairly bristled with historical allusions. 
When the question was put to vote on its merits, 
however, the Army won by a decided majority. 

Following this feature of the programme, six prom- 
ising new members were voted into the society amid 
a perfect tumult of applause. Raymond and Ned were 
strongly urged to hand in their names, but remember- 
ing their pledge to Pember and other members of the 
Social Brotherhood they declined to commit themselves. 


A SESSION WITH THE FACULTY 


79 


When they retired that night, however, the society ques- 
tion had become very real to them. It was in fact the 
most immediate and perplexing problem that confronted 
them. 


CHAPTER VII 


RAYMOND LOSES HIS WATCH 

“ That fellow seems terribly in earnest about some- 
thing,” said Ned, as he laid down his book, and looked 
across the table at his roommate. “ Just hear him 
whoop it up.” 

An amused smile flitted across Raymond’s face. 
“ I think there’s method in his madness,” he said. 

“ What do you suppose he’s doing? ” persisted Ned. 

“ I should judge, from the sounds that come from 
the firing line, that he was rehearsing a declamation.” 

“ My, what a voice!” was Ned’s enthusiastic com- 
ment. 

Strong and deep came the rich, full tones of the 
speaker across the hallway: 

“ Mr. President, a mind more prone to look for 
the judgments of Heaven in the doings of men than 
mine cannot fail in this to see the providence of God. 
When Moscow burned, it seemed as if the earth was 
lighted up that the nations might behold the scene. 
As that mighty sea of fire gathered and heaved, and 
rolled upward, higher and yet higher, till its flames 
aspired the stars and lit the whole heavens, it did seem 
as if the God of Nations was writing in characters of 
flame on the front of his throne the doom that shall 
80 


RAYMOND LOSES HIS WATCH 


8l 


fall upon a strong nation which tramples in scorn upon 
the weak.” 

“ That man is certainly a star performer,” declared 
Ned, with emphasis. “ What is that piece, anyway? 
Seems as if I’d heard it before.” 

“ It’s a part of Corwin’s great speech against the war 
with Mexico,” responded Raymond. “ I don’t believe, 
old man, that the great Ohio senator himself delivered 
it any better.” 

“ I noticed one thing at the Literii meeting last 
night,” said Ned, reflectively, “ and that was the good 
work that was done all through the literary programme. 
The gestures were graceful, and the fellows all spoke 
without singsong — just as if they knew what they 
were talking about. It was a great deal different, 
I declare, from the work in our Chestnut lyceum, even 
at its best. The speakers all look their audience in 
the face here, and don’t flunk, either.” 

Raymond laughed. 

“ That wouldn’t do at all in Chestnut,” he said. 
“ That old strip of broken plastering just below the 
ceiling in the back part of the hall has saved many 
a man from running ashore in his attempts at oratory. 
It was the focussing point for all our local Websters.” 

“ I know,” replied Ned, grinning. “ I ventured to 
let my gaze rest a little lower once, and caught Cobe 
Hersom’s eye just as he was in the act of biting off 
a chew of tobacco. To save my life I couldn’t get 
my eyes off from him again. In fact, he seemed to 


82 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


fill the whole room. He danced about like the French- 
man’s flea, and occupied all the seats. I had just 
reached the point in Sheil’s great speech in defence 
of the Irish people, who had been termed ‘ Aliens,’ 
where the Duke of Wellington jumps to his feet and 
shouts ‘ Hold ! I have seen the Aliens do their duty.’ 
I got the word ‘ hold,’ and then everything was a blank. 
I couldn’t think of the rest of it to save my soul. I 
never was so thoroughly rattled in my life. I stood 
there trying in vain to catch that cracked place in the 
plastering again, and repeating the word ‘ hold,’ with 
helpless and uncertain emphasis. Guess I should have 
been there yet if Cobe hadn’t shifted his quid, shot 
me a sympathetic grin, and remarked in a stage 
whisper, ‘ That’s right. Hang right onto it, sonny.’ 
I collapsed right there. I don’t know how I ever 
managed to find my seat, and I suppose there are a 
good many of that audience who haven’t discovered 
to this day just what the Duke of Wellington would 
have said, if I’d only have given him the chance. You 
never had an experience like that.” 

“ No,” laughed Raymond. “ I never allowed myself 
to lose sight of that crack in the plastering.” 

“ I know, but those things always came natural to 
you. Now I couldn’t speak as those fellows did last 
night in a thousand years.” 

“ Yes, you can,” declared Raymond, “ when you’ve 
had the instruction and experience they’ve had. I don’t 
imagine either of us would show up well just now.” 


fcAYMONt) LOSES HlS WAtCtt 83 

“ I suppose they have an instructor in elocution 
here.” 

“ Yes. Professor Chapin. He’s said to be one of 
the best in the country. He’s away somewhere now, 
I believe, giving a series of readings. I shall be glad 
to get into his classes.” 

“ So shall I,” said Ned, “ but I could never make 
a good declaimer in a thousand years. There would 
be a lot of satisfaction, though, in filing off some of 
my rough edges.” 

Their conversation was interrupted by a rap on the 
door, and, in answer to their summons, a tall, strongly 
built young man entered the room. He had a round, 
full face, with pleasant blue eyes and finely-cut features. 
A large head, high forehead, and a heavy growth of 
dark hair, gave him an air of intellectual strength, 
while his six feet of height, his broad shoulders and 
full chest, indicated a physical vigor that was quite 
capable of backing it up. His sunburned face and 
hands gave evidence of an out-of-door life. He was 
dressed in a blue flannel shirt, dark trousers, some- 
what the worse for wear — supported at the waist by 
a leather belt, and tucked at the bottoms into the legs 
of a pair of rubber boots. 

“Mr. Benson and Mr. Grover, I believe?” he said, 
with a cordial smile that lit up his strong features. 
“ My name is Wiswell. I room across the hall, and 
shall want you both to be neighborly. I have been 
pretty busy at home on the farm, and did not get here 


S4 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


until this afternoon, or I should have called on you 
before. My first name is Albert, but the boys all call 
me ‘ Al,’ and I don’t think I should feel quite at 
home by any other title. I shall be squared away by 
to-morrow, and I want you both to feel perfectly free 
to run in and out any time. I warn you that I shall 
be a pretty frequent caller here.” 

Raymond and Ned hastened to shake the big hand 
of the newcomer, and thank him for his cordial greet- 
ing. They both felt strongly attracted to this frank, 
smiling-faced young giant who seemed to radiate an 
atmosphere of unaffected good-fellowship. 

“ Won’t you sit down?” asked Ned. 

“ Thanks, I don’t think I’ll have time now. I came 
in to-day especially to attend our society meeting. I’m 
a Socii, you know. I’ve only an hour left to dress in. 
I suppose you two are going over, aren’t you? ” 

“ Yes,” said Raymond. “ We saw the Literiis last 
night, and were going to see your boys to-night. We 
have already made some very pleasant acquaintances 
in both societies.” 

“ I presume you haven’t pledged yet?” 

“ No, we thought it would be best to go a little 
slow in the matter.” 

“ That’s right,” said Wiswell, approvingly. “ I will 
say, however, that I haven’t much doubt of the out- 
come. Our members do not shrink from comparisons. 
1 would be very glad to have you go along with me, 
boys. I’ll call for you if you wish.” 


RAYMOND LOSES HIS WATCH 85 

“ Thank you very much,” said Raymond. “ You 
are very kind.” 

“ Don’t mention it,” answered Wiswell. “ I’m keep- 
ing bachelor’s hall just now. My roommate, Frank 
Morris, won’t get back until next week. You will be 
glad to know him. He’s one of the finest fellows in 
the world. Well, so-long, boys — see you later,” and 
with a pleasant nod Wiswell left the room. 

“ Did you ever see a better-built fellow in your life? ” 
exclaimed Ned, enthusiastically, when the door had 
closed behind him. “ I’ll bet you that fellow’s an 
athlete.” 

“ He certainly looks as if he might be,” asserted 
Raymond, “ but most of all he impresses me as a 
straightforward, whole-souled fellow — one of the 
kind it would be safe to tie to. He’s the one we 
heard declaiming.” 

“ Yes,” said Ned. “ I recognized that the first 
word he spoke. His voice is in keeping with his 
proportions.” 

A little later Wiswell called for them, and they 
accompanied him to the Socii’s meeting. Arriving a 
little while before it was called to order, their new 
friend improved the opportunity to introduce them to 
a number of the members, all of whom greeted them 
most cordially, and appeared to be very pleasant fellows. 

The meeting did not differ materially in its general 
features from that of the Literii’s. There were essays 
and declamations, including the one which the boys had 


86 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


heard Wiswell rehearsing, and which called forth a 
storm of applause. Pember read a paper which evoked 
considerable mirth, although most of its personal allu- 
sions were lost on Raymond and Ned. 

Then followed a discussion of the question : 
“ Resolved, That the Nihilists of Russia are Justi- 
fiable in Their Mode of Action.” This was sharply 
debated on both sides, the discussion being thrown 
open to the meeting after the regular disputants — 
two on each side — had finished their arguments. 

Quite a number of the members joined in this 
general debate, and Raymond and Ned noted with 
surprise that among those who participated were lead- 
ing members of the Literary Fraternity. 

When the question was finally put to vote upon its 
merits it was carried in the negative by a large margin, 
a number of those who had spoken in the affirmative 
voting with the majority. 

Following the discussion Wiswell moved that the 
public exercises be closed, and all not members of 
the Literary Fraternity be cordially invited to remain 
through the private meeting. The Literiis who were 
present thereupon retired from the hall in a body. 

As a similar motion had been put and carried by the 
members of the other society the previous evening, it 
was evident that this was a regular feature of the 
weekly meetings of both fraternities. 

The private meeting of the Sociis, aside from a few 
routine matters of a business character, was devoted 



Raymond held out a hand to Wiswell, who shook it 

heartily. — Page 87. 




RAYMOND LOSES HIS WATCH 


87 


to the voting in of new members. As each name was 
voted on the chorus of ayes was something deafening, 
and the applause that followed each announcement of 
election was vociferous in the extreme. The big wood- 
box in the corner was converted into a drum, while the 
cover of the spacious Franklin stove was slammed up 
and down with ear-splitting effect. It seemed to Ray- 
mond and Ned as if pandemonium itself were let loose. 

While the seventh name was being voted upon 
Wiswell came up the aisle to Raymond and Ned, 
who had thus far resisted all importunities to hand 
in their names. 

“ Come, boys, we need you,” he said. 

Raymond looked inquiringly at Ned, who nodded 
his head. “ These are the fellows we will train with 
most,” he whispered. 

Raymond held out a hand to Wiswell, who shook 
it heartily. Ned also pledged in a similar manner. 

A storm of applause followed this scene, whose sig- 
nificance was instantly recognized by the members of 
the society. 

“ Mr. President,” said Wiswell, addressing the Chair, 
“ it gives me great pleasure to present for membership 
in the Social Brotherhood the names of Mr. Raymond 
Benson and Mr. Edward Grover. I move you, sir, 
that they be elected by acclamation.” 

Pember was upon his feet in an instant. “ Mr. 
President,” he said, “ I take great satisfaction in sec- 
onding that motion.” 


88 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


The motion was put and carried in a tumult of 
enthusiasm. The members of the society immediately 
gathered about Raymond and Ned to shake them by 
the hand and offer their congratulations. 

“ You’ll never regret your choice, fellows,” said 
Wiswell, as they walked home after the meeting. 

“ I suppose we should say that if we’d joined the 
Literiis,” laughed Raymond. 

“ Undoubtedly,” admitted Wiswell. “ The fellows 
are ’most always satisfied whichever way they go, and 
each one thinks his own society is the best.” 

“ The better, you mean,” laughed Ned. 

“ No, the best. There are three societies at Kramp- 
ton. The ladies have one, you know — the Anthonia.” 

“ I didn’t know that,” said Ned. 

“ There isn’t any competition there, and I imagine 
the soliciting must be a very tame affair. So far as 
the boys are concerned, there are good fellows in both 
societies, and each is doing a good work. There is, 
however, a certain individuality about each of them — 
and take my word for it, you have gone where you 
belong.” 

“ Our associations thus far have certainly been for 
the most part in that direction,” replied Raymond. 

“Won’t you come in?” asked Wiswell, cordially, 
as he inserted the key in his door. 

“ No, thanks,” said Raymond. “ We are planning 
to get up early to-morrow, and it has been dark under 
the table for some time.” 


RAYMOND LOSES HIS WATCH 


89 


“ Well, good-night, and pleasant dreams.” 

“ The more I see of that fellow the better I like 
him,” said Ned, emphatically, when they had lighted 
the lamp in their own room. 

“ The same with me,” coincided Raymond. “ Had 
we better plug this algebra lesson or go to bed ? ” 

“ Oh, bother the algebra,” said Ned, impatiently. 
“ Let’s tackle it in the morning. I’m tired as a 
bear.” 

“ So am I,” responded Raymond. “ Well, bed it 
is,” and shortly after both boys were wrapt in heavy 
slumber. 

“ I say, old man, what have you done with my 
watch ? ” called Raymond, the next morning. 

“ Your watch?” replied Ned, coming in from the 
sitting-room where he had been kindling the fire. “ I 
haven’t had it. Where did you leave it ? ” 

“ Right here on the stand at the head of the bed.” 

“ Are you sure ? Look in your vest pocket and 
see if it isn’t there.” 

“ I’ve looked, besides I remember distinctly of leav- 
ing it on the stand when I went to bed.” 

A careful search failed to reveal any trace of the 
missing timepiece. Raymond discovered, however, that 
the door leading from the bedroom to the hallway was 
unlocked. 

“ This is the way it went,” he said. “ Some rascal 
opened the door a little way, and reached in and 
took it.” 


90 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ I’m afraid I’m to blame for it,” said Ned, ruefully. 
“ I opened that door to set out the slop-pail just before 
we went to bed, and must have forgotten to lock it 
again.” 

“ No one could be blamed for that,” said Raymond, 
warmly. “ It shouldn’t be necessary to lock our door 
at all in a school like this. I’m not so certain, either, 
that you didp’t lock it. Other people have had keys 
to this room.” 

“ You certainly can’t suspect Biffins?.” cried Ned. 

“ Why not? A fellow who makes keys to other 
people’s doors might very likely be tempted to use 
them.” 

Ned laid a hand on his roommate’s shoulder. 

“ Go slow, old man,” he said, earnestly. “ It’s bad 
enough to lose the watch; but it would be worse to 
suspect a schoolfellow unjustly.” 

“ I guess you are right, Ned,” responded Raymond, 
after a moment’s reflection. “ Biffins is an imp ; but 
I don’t believe he’s a thief. I hate awfully to lose that 
watch. It’s one mother gave me. She had it when 
she taught school before she was married. It is not 
so very valuable in itself — though the cases are solid 
silver — but its associations make it very dear to 
me. I would gladly give several times its worth to 
recover it.” 

“ I think it would be a good plan to lay the whole 
matter before Professor McCleery,” suggested Ned. 
“ He might be able to assist you in some way.” 


RAYMOND LOSES HIS WATCH 91 

Later in the day Raymond acted upon this advice. 
The Principal heard him patiently, and then walked 
up and down the room, running the fingers of his 
right hand nervously through his hair, as was his habit 
when anything excited him. 

“ I wish I had known this sooner,” he said. “ I 
can’t believe that this is the work of a student, although 
we sometimes get bad boys here. A party left town 
this morning, as I have since discovered, whom I would 
have had arrested and searched had I known of this 
and several other things in season. No,” he added, 
hastily, as Raymond started to speak, “ I can’t mention 
names, for I may be mistaken. I am very much afraid 
that you will never see your watch again. I should 
advise you, however, to say very little about the matter. 
If some student took it, which is quite possible, such a 
course on your part will, I think, assist in its recovery.” 

Raymond left the Professor’s study more mystified 
than ever, although he determined to follow the advice 
that had been given him. The more he thought it 
over, however, the more his suspicions turned towards 
Biffins, and he determined to keep a close watch on the 
Imp, and see what developments would come from it. 


CHAPTER VIII 


A CALL TO THE BASEBALL SQUAD 

A few days after the loss of his watch Raymond 
met Biffins alone in the hallway. The Imp was hurry- 
ing past him with a careless nod when Raymond laid 
a detaining hand on his arm. 

“ Come into my room, Biffins/' he said. “ I want 
to see you.” 

Raymond’s tone was somewhat peremptory, and 
Biffins looked at him anxiously. 

“ What have I done now?” he demanded, uneasily. 

“ I haven’t accused you of doing anything,” said 
Raymond, briefly. 

“ What are you looking so glum for ? What’s 
gnawing you, anyway?” 

“ Have you any keys to this room ? ” demanded 
Raymond, when the door closed behind them, and he 
had motioned Biffins to a seat. 

“ No, not now. I had one, but I gave it up to you. 
Don’t you remember?” 

“ Yes — that one; but are you sure that you haven’t 
made any others? ” 

“ Sure. What do you ask me that for ? ” 

“ Oh, I merely wanted to know.” 

92 


A CALL TO THE BASEBALL SQUAD 93 

“ See here, Benson, you are keeping something back. 
Tell me just what you mean.” 

The light tone was gone from Biffins’ voice. He 
looked Raymond squarely in the eye, and spoke with 
a quiet dignity that was new to him. 

“ I only wanted to know if any one else had a key 
to this room — I — er — have — ” 

“Lost something?” 

Raymond nodded. 

There were unmistakable tears in Biffins’ eyes now. 
He rose slowly from his seat. 

“ Benson,” he said, unsteadily, “ I’ve got faults 
enough, I’ll admit, and I’ve played some pretty rough 
pranks on the boys; but nobody ever suspected me of 
being a thief before. It — it hurts.” 

Tears rolled down his cheeks, and he turned towards 
the door. Raymond was touched. 

“ Forgive me, Biffins,” he said, hastily. “ I don’t 
accuse you. Ned thinks he left one door unlocked, 
and I only wanted to make sure it was so. I take 
your word that you had no key. Don’t think of the 
matter again.” 

“ The worst thing I ever did with a key to another 
fellow’s door was to grease the water-pitcher in Tutor 
Morgan’s room with kerosene one time when he used 
to room in this dormitory. He was out to a society 
meeting.” A grin lit up Biffins’ tear-stained face at 
the recollection. “ He got up in the middle of the 
night to get a drink, and took two or three big swal- 


94 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

lows before he found it out. Tell you he was awful 
mad. The fellows in the room across the way said 
he ripped round like a pirate, and him a leader in the 
prayer meetings ! ” 

Raymond could not resist a smile at the narrative. 

“ Pember told me something about that,” he said. 
“ What did Morgan do about it ? ” 

“ He gave me an awful call-down, and threatened 
to lay the whole matter before the faculty — only he 
didn’t dare to. He was afraid they’d find out about 
the language he’d used. He didn’t stay here long after 
that. I was glad when he went. He hated me ’most 
as bad as Bliss does.” 

A sudden inspiration lit up Biffins’ face. 

“ Say,” he cried, eagerly, “ you don’t s’pose ’twas 
Ducky that lifted your stuff, do you ? ” 

“ I hadn’t thought of him,” said Raymond, dubiously. 

“ He’s a revengeful fellow,” said Biffins, with a sage 
nod of his head. “ I tell you I know him. He’ll do 
’most anything to get even with you for that swipe 
you gave him in the club that day. Well, good-by. 
I’m glad to know you don’t think it was me,” and 
Biffins, his equanimity fully restored, took his departure 
and went merrily whistling down the stairway, leaving 
Raymond in a state of doubt and perplexity. 

“ Do you think Bliss could have had anything to 
do with the stealing of my watch?” he asked Ned, 
who came in shortly after the interview with Biffins. 

“ No, I do not,” was the decided response. “ What 


A CALL TO THE BASEBALL SQUAD 95 

put that into your head ? How could he possibly know 
the associations that made that watch specially valuable 
to you? If he ever tries to get back on you it will be 
in some other way than that.” 

“ I guess you are right about it, Ned,” agreed Ray- 
mond. “ I reckon I might as well say good-by to the 
watch and think no more of it.” 

A little later they were interrupted in their work 
by the entrance of Pember, accompanied by a tall, 
sinewy young man, whom he introduced as Del Baxter, 
the captain of the Krampton baseball team. 

“ I should have been round to see you earlier, boys,” 
he said, cordially, as he shook hands with Raymond 
and Ned, “ but it is one of the unwritten rules of our 
team that nothing shall be said to a new fellow until 
he has made his choice of a society. We don’t permit 
those matters to enter in any way into the athletic life 
of the school.” 

“ It’s all Krampton there, you know,” interposed 
Pember. 

“We want you fellows to go into training with the 
baseball squad,” continued Baxter, with a smile at the 
interruption. “ I wish you could have been with us 
during the fall term,” he added. 

“ I wish we could, too,” said Raymond. “ We were 
attending school in our own town through the greater 
part of your fall term. By the way, how many terms 
have you in the school year here ? ” 

“ Four, of ten weeks each — fall, winter, spring and 


g6 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

summer. The school year begins the latter part of 
August.” 

“ We found ourselves able to take up our work here 
much better than we expected,” said Ned. “ It was 
fortunate for us that the terms are no longer.” 

“ It makes a rather long school year,” said Pember, 
“ but then you know most of us come here to work.” 

“ But we are asking them to play,” laughed Baxter, 
“ and I hope you’ll go into practice with us, boys. 
You have been very highly recommended to us by Cy 
Devons.” 

Raymond and Ned looked their astonishment. 

“ Cy Devons?” they repeated, in the same breath. 

“ Yes,” replied Baxter. “ He thinks you both have 
the making of strong players.” 

“ But he only saw us practice about half an hour,” 
persisted Ned, incredulously, “ and that simply showed 
him that Raymond couldn’t pitch — that is, any curves 
— and I couldn’t catch anything but a straight ball.” 

“ Nevertheless, he has recommended you to me,” 
said Baxter, “ and I assure you that his endorsement 
has great weight in baseball matters here at Krampton.” 

“ Really,” said Raymond, “ I don’t want the boys 
here to get any false ideas about us. Ned and I have 
had very little experience in baseball. In fact, our 
playing has been wholly confined to school-yard prac- 
tice, and a few games on a country team. There must 
be a great many fellows here who can play better than 
we can. We should be very glad, of course, to practice 


A CALL TO THE BASEBALL SQUAD 97 

with you; but neither of us would want the students 
to get the idea that we are phenoms — or consider 
ourselves so.” 

“ I understand,” said Baxter. “ I am inclined to 
believe, however, that you won’t have so much fear 
of the rest of us after you have played with us a while. 
I saw your practice the other morning, and I feel pretty 
well satisfied that, with Devons to coach jrou through 
the winter, you will make us a good battery next 
summer. Our old pitcher was in the last graduating 
class. Billy Cass, who caught him, is in the present 
senior class, but he is a fine infielder, and I am anxious 
to have him fill the vacant position at second base. 
Wiswell will be at first, Pember here will occupy his 
old place at shortstop, and I shall continue to play at 
third base. We shall have to develop two new out- 
fielders. Bliss is the only one of the old trio who is 
still in the school.” 

Raymond’s face clouded. “ Bliss?” he said. “I 
didn’t know he was a ball player.” 

“ Yes, he’s considered the best outfielder in the league. 
He led our team in batting last season.” 

“ The best fellows are not always the best players, 
you know,” interposed Pember. 

“ I should say, however, that it was the general rule 
at Krampton,” suggested Ned. 

“ Thanks,” laughed Baxter. “ We shall all owe you 
one for that. We shall practice every afternoon for 
an hour or two immediately after Chapel exercises, that 


9 8 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


is, as long as the weather permits. Of course it isn’t 
very often that we get such a spell of warm weather so 
late in November. It’s been some years since we were 
able to do out-of-door work so late in the season, and 
we can’t expect present conditions to last long. While 
they do, however, we must make the most of them.” 

“ What about football?” inquired Ned. 

“ We’ve never played it at Krampton yet,” responded 
Pember, “ but we expect, if everything goes right, to 
have an eleven in the field next fall.” 

“ It looks as if we couldn’t get much baseball prac- 
tice before spring,” said Raymond, regretfully. 

“ Oh, yes, we can,” rejoined Baxter. “ After the 
weather gets too cold for us we shall work in the gym- 
nasium. Unfortunately, we haven’t any cage there; 
but Devons has fixed up a place at his home, and we 
shall arrange to have you work with him there. We 
shall look for you on the ball-field, to-morrow after- 
noon,” and Baxter and Pember took their departure, 
leaving Raymond and Ned to discuss this new phase 
in their life at Krampton. 

“ I should like mighty well to make the team,” said 
Raymond, reflectively ; “ but I don’t like the idea of 
being associated with that fellow Bliss.” 

“ Why not, old man? ” remonstrated Ned. “ If he’s 
the best outfielder and the hardest hitter in school, I 
should think all of us ought to want him on the team. 
We can’t be too strong when we go up against the 
other schools.” 


A CALL TO THE BASEBALL SQUAD 99 

“ You’re right, Ned,” conceded Raymond. “ I know 
that’s the broad view to take of it; but I feel as if the 
less I saw of that fellow the better it would suit me.” 

When Raymond and Ned returned from dinner that 
day they found a number of the boys engaged in a 
jumping match in front of Porter Hall. 

George D. Moker, a short, thick-set fellow, and one 
of the most active members of the Literary Fraternity, 
appeared to be in the lead. Both Raymond and Ned 
took part in the contest; but neither of them were 
able to reach his mark. 

“ Halloo, Densor ! ” “ Hurry up there, Uncle Ezra! ” 
shouted several of the boys, as a tall, broad-shouldered, 
brown-eyed fellow, with a heavy shock of auburn hair, 
came slowly up the walk with some text-books under 
his arm. 

Raymond and Ned looked at him in surprise. He 
certainly appeared older than the other students — a 
distinction that was emphasized by a stubby beard of 
several weeks’ growth. The newcomer was certainly 
a fellow of splendid proportions ; but there was nothing 
in his appearance to indicate a jumper, and Raymond 
and Ned were under the impression that his fellow 
students were making sport of him. 

“What’s up now?” he asked, good-naturedly. 

“ Moker is cleaning out the whole crowd,” explained 
Sandy Greyson. “ If you don’t take him down a peg 
he will get so puffed up that the rest of us can’t live 
with him.” 


100 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRaMPTON 


“ Is that your mark, Moker ? ” inquired Densor, as 
he joined the circle. 

“ Yes — that’s my best one.” 

“ Pretty good for a standing broad. I don’t know 
whether I can reach that or not, but I’ll give it a try. 
Here, hold my books a minute, Biffins, that’s a good 
boy.” 

The newcomer swung back and forth for a moment, 
and then threw himself forward with surprising light- 
ness, clearing Moker’s mark by more than a foot. A 
storm of applause followed this achievement. 

“ Try it again for a record,” urged Biffins, as he 
handed Densor his books. 

“ Can’t stop, Imp. I’ve got some sweeping to do, 
and not much time to do it in. If Moker beats that, 
however, I’ll try it out again with him to-morrow,” 
and Densor continued on his way to the Chapel build- 
ing, leaving the jumpers to struggle in a vain attempt 
to reach his mark. 

“Who was that fellow?” asked Raymond of Wis- 
well, as the study bell called them to their rooms in 
the dormitory. 

“You mean the big fellow who led the jumping?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ That’s Ezra Densor. He’s a little slow, but pure 
gold, and has a barrel of good horse-sense.” 

“ He must be a powerful fellow physically.” 

“ He is,” replied Wiswell, reflectively. “ If he 
hadn’t been he wouldn’t be in school now. He is 


A CALL TO THE BASEBALL SQUAD 


IOI 


making his own way. Do you know, Benson, that 
fellow came here to take a course of study with less 
than a dollar in his pocket.” 

Raymond gave a whistle of astonishment. “ How 
has he lived ? ” he asked. 

“ The Lord only knows. It’s one of the problems 
I’ve never been able to solve. I don’t suppose he has 
really lived, though. He has simply managed to exist. 
He’s fitting himself for the ministry, I believe.” 

“ And yet I noticed that he was able to beat us all 
jumping,” interposed Raymond, with a smile. 

“ Yes ; but did you notice how shabby his clothes are 
getting? He’s worn that suit ever since he came here, 
and it couldn’t have cost him more than ten dollars 
in the first place. His boots, too — he’s about the only 
fellow in school who wears cowhides — are beginning 
to get thin on the taps.” 

“ I can’t conceive how he’s managed to get along,” 
was Raymond’s comment. 

“ Well, he’s done everything that he could get to do. 
He sweeps out the recitation-rooms, kindles fires, saws 
wood — does anything, in fact, that will turn him a 
penny. There is no more industrious fellow at Kramp- 
ton. Last summer he worked for the neighboring 
farmers through hoeing and haying. I imagine he 
laid up a little something; but not enough to swing 
him very far into the expenses of a school year. I 
think he does more hard labor than any of the other 
fellows who are working their own way,” 


102 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Why, are there others besides him and Mason ? ” 
asked Raymond, with deep interest. 

“ Yes, quite a number who are doing it in part. 
Some are helped a little by their families, some have 
been able to borrow a little money, and practically all 
of them teach winters. I think Densor and Dave 
Andrews are the only ones who are wholly dependent 
upon what they earn as they go along. Dave, how- 
ever, is a fine teacher, and is always in demand among 
the district agents.” 

“ But why doesn’t Densor teach ? ” asked Raymond, 
who had found himself deeply interested and stirred 
by what Wiswell had told him. 

“ I don’t think he’s adapted to such work. Besides, 
he’s not a quick student. Whatever he acquires is by 
patient plugging. When he has once mastered a thing, 
however, he never lets go of it. I don’t believe, though, 
that it would ever be possible for him to keep along 
with his regular studies, and make up a whole winter’s 
work,” added Wiswell, as they separated to enter their 
rooms. 

“ I see you play the limit,” said Ned, as Raymond 
tossed his hat on the lounge and turned with a sigh to 
the study table. 

“ Why didn’t you stay it out ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ Oh, I knew we’d reached the record when Densor 
made his big jump,” laughed Ned, “ and I thought it 
was time for me to light out, and get down to this 
Greek lesson.” 


A CALL TO THE BASEBALL SQUAD IO3 

“ I’d give a good deal, Ned, if I were only half as 
good a Greek scholar as you are.” 

“ And I’d cheerfully swap all I know about the dead 
languages for your proficiency in mathematics.” 

“ Thanks,” said Raymond, briefly. “ I think that 
squares us. Seriously, though, it’s like pulling hen’s 
teeth for me to get down and bone Greek. I don’t 
see what sense there is in requiring it in college entrance 
examinations. I should much rather devote my time 
to learning some modern language that might possibly 
be of some use to me in after life.” 

“ It’s the mental discipline, my boy,” returned Ned. 

“ Mental fiddlesticks ! ” exclaimed Raymond, impa- 
tiently. “ It’s pedantry, pure and simple.” 

“ You’re wrong, Raymond,” said Ned, in a tone of 
conviction. “ The Greek literature is a very important 
part of the world’s heritage. Any work that tends to 
make us in any degree acquainted with it, and renders 
it possible for us to understand and appreciate its 
beauties, must necessarily form an important part in 
a liberal education.” 

“ Seems to me I heard Prof. Morton say something 
like that at our opening recitation,” remarked Ray- 
mond, dryly. “ Do you know,” he added, with a sigh, 
after a moment’s silence, “ every teacher judges a 
student from the standpoint of his own department, 
and I think that Prof. Morton has already written me 
down in his estimation as a hopeless dunce.” 

Ned made no reply, and Raymond, taking the hint, 


104 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


reluctantly picked up his Greek text-book, and went 
doggedly to work on the afternoon’s lesson. As he 
turned the pages of his lexicon, however, he could not 
help thinking about Densor, and what Wiswell had 
told him concerning the big fellow’s struggle for an 
education. He asked himself if he were placed in 
similar circumstances if he would have the necessary 
courage and tenacity to maintain so stern a contest. 
Could he put away false pride; could he forego the 
little participations in and contributions to the general 
interests, that give so much of pleasure to a generous 
soul — and he felt sure that Densor’s heart was in 
keeping with his physical proportions; could he go 
shabbily clad; could he sink all youthful pleasures in 
a round of ceaseless drudgery? 

He could not bring himself to answer in the affirm- 
ative, and in his heart he felt a swelling admiration 
and respect for the modest fellow, who right in their 
midst was quietly but grimly waging a fight as truly 
heroic as many that had achieved honor, and knight- 
hood, and the praise of men, on more pretentious 
fields. 

Out of such material have been moulded the pioneers 
of human progress. 


CHAPTER IX 


A MORNING WITH CY DEVONS 

Following their first meeting with Cy Devons, Ray- 
mond and Ned had taken every opportunity during 
the next few days to put his suggestions into practice. 
As a result, they had already made considerable 
improvement when they met for the first time on the 
ball-field with the candidates for the nine. Raymond 
had partially acquired the knack of throwing an out- 
curve, although his control of it was still more or less 
uncertain, and Ned had learned to catch it, when it 
came within reach, with the sure-handedness that was 
characteristic of his playing. 

They were given a very warm welcome by Devons, 
Captain Baxter and the members of the squad gen- 
erally, with the exception of Bliss, who held himself 
sullenly aloof from them. 

Devons and Raymond took turns in pitching to the 
members of the team, two of whom were allowed to 
practice batting and running to first base, while sub- 
stitutes filled their positions in the field. 

Raymond felt somewhat discouraged at the freedom 
with which his pitching was hit, especially by Ducky 
Bliss, who seemed to derive no little satisfaction from 
105 


IO 6 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

two long drives over the left fielder’s head, despite the 
desperate efforts of Sandy Greyson, who was playing 
the position, to reach them. 

Raymond felt partially repaid, however, when his 
own turn came to bat, in making a similar drive off 
Devons’ pitching, although he half suspected that the 
big fellow had purposely afforded him the opportunity 
in order to encourage him. 

Ned and Billy Cass took turns behind the bat, and 
while both did well, it was very evident that the latter 
was by far the better backstop, — especially when it 
came to handling the curves and shoots of Cy Devons. 

Following the batting practice, about half an hour 
was devoted to fielding, after which Cass came in from 
second base, where his brilliant work had evoked gen- 
eral admiration, and took turns with Ned in throwing 
to second base. Here Ned’s superiority over the more 
experienced player was too marked to admit of any 
question. 

“ My ! Can’t that fellow throw ! ” exclaimed one 
of the students who was watching the practice with 
evident admiration. 

“ He’s a dandy,” admitted the boy to whom this 
remark was addressed. “ Shouldn’t wonder if there’d 
be considerably less base stealing on our fellows next 
summer. There’s a chance, though, for a lot of 
improvement in his backstopping. He seems to have 
lots of grit, and confidence; but he isn’t in it yet with 
Billy Cass.” 


A MORNING WITH CY DEVONS IO7 

“ What do you think of the pitcher ? ” asked another. 

“ He seems to have considerable speed, and a nice 
easy swing. All I’ve seen him throw, though, is a 
straight ball, and now and then an out-shoot. He 
doesn’t seem to bother the boys much; but I under- 
stand Devons thinks pretty well of him. Anyway, he 
seems to be about the only fellow in sight for the box. 
If he doesn’t pan out well we simply won’t be in it 
next season.” 

“ A winter’s coaching by Devons will do wonders 
for him,” said the first speaker. “ He appears to be 
a good batter, too, which is something of a rarity in 
a pitcher.” 

Raymond, who overheard these comments, although 
they were not intended for his ears, could not help 
a feeling of elation on behalf of Ned, in whose suc- 
cesses he felt an unselfish pride. At the same time he 
was oppressed by a sense of his own responsibilities, 
and the fear that he might not be able to fulfil the 
expectations of his schoolmates. 

He was somewhat reassured, as he and Ned returned 
to the dormitory, by the cordial words of Baxter, 
Pember and Wiswell, who walked along with them, 
and expressed themselves as much gratified with the 
showing they had made. 

As they passed from the field they found Cy Devons 
waiting for them at the turnstile. 

“ By the way, Benson,” he inquired, “ do you and 
Grover make a practice of getting up with the lark ? ” 


io8 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ It depends on whether or not we want to catch 
any worms/’ laughed Raymond. 

“ Well, I want you to go fishing with me to-morrow. 
I shall be waiting for you with a team at six o’clock 
sharp. Have you an alarm clock ? ” 

“ We don’t need one,” said Ned. “ Wiswell is a 
good deal better. He usually gets at least a half 
hour’s start of the sunrise.” 

“ Don’t worry about them, Cy,” said Wiswell, good- 
naturedly. “ I’ll have them up in season for you, if 
I have to pull them out of bed by the heels.” 

It seemed to Raymond and Ned that they had 
scarcely closed their eyes that night when they were 
awakened by a rap on their bedroom door, and heard 
the deep tones of Wiswell’s voice calling: 

“ Tumble out there, sleepyheads. Time to go 
fishing.” 

Hastily dressing themselves they made their way 
down-stairs, and, shivering in the cool morning air, 
stood looking out upon the still sleeping village and 
the strangely quiet campus. 

The first rays of the rising sun were just throwing 
into relief the white steeple of the village church at 
the head of the street, and the roosters in the neigh- 
boring hen-houses were breaking the brooding stillness 
with their lusty morning summons. 

Presently a rattle of wheels sounded down the street, 
and in a moment Devons appeared driving a long- 
gaited white horse, attached to a stout beach-wagon. 


A MORNING WITH CY DEVONS IC>9 

“ All ready, boys,” he shouted, and a moment later 
Raymond and Ned were seated on either side of him, 
and driving up the village street at a sharp clip. 

“ It isn’t a very long walk to where we are going,” 
explained Devons, as they rode along, “ but I wanted 
to save you all the time I possibly could.” 

A little later they drew up by the side of an old- 
fashioned one-story farmhouse in the outskirts of the 
village, in the rear of which stood a long barn and a 
big, roomy stable. 

“ Here we are,” said Devons, as he descended care- 
fully to the ground. “ This is the old place where I 
make my home. I was born here.” 

The boys alighted from the wagon, and looked 
about them with keen interest. 

“ How far is it to the brook?” asked Ned. 

Devons looked at him with twinkling eyes. 

“ Just let me hitch this horse in the stable floor, 
and I’ll show you,” he answered. 

Emerging from the stable, presently, he led his 
visitors behind the barn, where for the first time the 
boys saw a long, narrow building covered with tarred 
roofing paper, held in place with tin-heads, securely 
nailed. It was lighted principally by a row of dormer 
windows on either side of its roof. There was a shed- 
roofed projection on either side of the building at its 
opposite ends, each of which had a brick chimney. 
The smoke was pouring from both of these, indicating 
that good fires were burning within. 


no 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ This was built originally for a hen-house,” 
explained Devons. “ I had a very bad attack of the 
poultry fever at the time. I have converted it, how- 
ever, to other, and I think more profitable, uses.” 

He threw open the door at the end of the building, 
and Raymond and Ned saw with amazement a room 
as unique as it evidently was well suited to the uses 
for which it was designed. 

The floor was of hard wood. The walls were 
covered with plank sheathing, and the windows care- 
fully protected by stout wire screening. What specially 
caught the attention of the boys, however, were the 
two little apartments at the opposite ends of the long 
room, one on either side, which were partitioned off 
on the front with heavy wire screening, nailed to sub- 
stantial frames, and behind which two roomy Franklin 
stoves of ample size sent forth a genial current of 
warmth. 

“ Here’s where we fish, boys,” laughed Devons. 
“ What do you think of my cage ? ” 

“ It’s great.” “ It’s a dandy,” returned Raymond 
and Ned, in the same breath. 

Opening a chest beside the door Devons produced 
a catcher’s mitt, two fielder’s gloves, and a baseball. 

“ If you’ll take your position at the other end of 
the cage, Grover,” he said, tossing the mitt to Ned, 
“ Benson and I will see what we can throw you.” 

“ This is a heavier mitt than I ever saw before,” 
said Ned, as he followed Devons’ directions. 


A MORNING WITH CY DEVONS 


III 


“ Very likely, ” returned the big pitcher. “It’s the 
most expensive one made, and the one in general use 
among professional catchers. It’s rather new and stiff, 
but it will improve with use, and you’ll soon get the 
hang of it. Better throw him a few straight ones at 
the start, Benson.’’ 

In a short time, under Devons’ instructions, Ned 
found himself handling the big mitt with as much ease 
as he had the lighter one to which he had been accus- 
tomed. “ It’s a great institution,” was his enthusiastic 
comment. “ I believe I could stand it up against the 
wall here, and it would do its own catching.” 

“ Possibly,” replied Devons, “ but perhaps it might 
bother it a little to throw. Remember now, don’t try 
to catch the ball until it gets to you. That’s better. 
Try that out-shoot again, Benson. Start it a little 
higher and further out from your body. Don’t forget 
that arm-and-wrist twist. That’s what gives the curve. 
Here, like this,” and taking the ball from Raymond’s 
hand, he shot it across the cage with an out-sweep 
which called forth an exclamation of surprise and 
admiration from Raymond. 

“ Bravo ! ” cried Devons, as the ball nestled snugly 
in Ned’s big mitt. “ You’re getting on famously, old 
man.” 

For fully an hour the practice continued, at the end 
of which time Devons took the ball. “ I guess that’s 
enough for to-day,” he said. “ I don’t want to take 
any chances with your arm at the start.” 


II 2 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ But sha’n’t I try something besides the out-shoot ? ” 
asked Raymond, in a tone of disappointment. 

“ Not to-day. One thing at a time, and that thor- 
oughly. You are getting along very well, and we’ll 
get to the other things in due time. Just take a seat 
on the chest while I throw a few to Grover. Be 
careful of your hands,” he cautioned Ned. “ If they 
are a little wide don’t try to stop them.” 

For a half-hour more the famous pitcher threw a 
series of shoots and twists to Ned that were fairly 
bewildering. Raymond, who watched him closely, 
derived many valuable suggestions from his work, and 
saw with satisfaction that Ned, with the assistance of 
the big mitt, was gaining in his ability to judge and 
hold the big fellow’s delivery. 

“ That will do,” said Devons, finally, as he paused 
and wiped the perspiration from his face. “ Just put 
these things back into the chest, Benson, and I’ll get 
out the team.” 

A moment later they were on their way back to the 
Academy. 

“ Early morning practice comes a little hard at 
first,” said Devons, as they drove along, “ but it’s 
the kind that counts. Few men can excel in anything 
without a certain amount of hard work. Whatever 
success I have had in my temporary calling has been 
wholly due to it. Do you think you can keep it up ? ” 

“ How often shall we come ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ Every morning,” returned Devons. “ It may be 


A MORNING WITH CY DEVONS II3 

a little hard at first; but it will give you good appetites 
for breakfast, and you will find that you can study all 
the better for it.” 

“ We shall be only too glad to come,” said Raymond, 
“ but you needn’t bother to come after us. We’ve 
found the way now, and it will do us no harm to walk. 
We are country boys, you know, and used to it.” 

“ All right. I shall look for you, then,” said Devons, 
drawing up in front of Porter Hall just as the Chapel 
bell was ringing the breakfast hour. 

The boys were about to go to the club, when their 
attention was attracted by a crowd of laughing towns- 
people and students, which had collected in front of 
the post-office. 

The cause of their merriment was speedily apparent. 
Swinging back and forth between the poles from 
which one of the political parties had suspended its 
campaign flag, was Doctor Vertebra, the Academy 
Skeleton, adorned with a large placard reading “ Fac- 
ulty Rule.” The ropes had been carefully tied to 
the iron ring at the back of the grinning skull. The 
skeleton had then been drawn into the air, midway 
of the street, the ropes on either side drawn down and 
fastened to the cleats at the foot of the poles, and 
the extra lengths, which would have been necessary 
to lower the ghastly banner, cut off and carried away. 

Professor McCleery walked up and down the side- 
walk pushing his hand excitedly through his hair, 
while the skeleton swayed back and forth in the stiff 


1 14 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

November breeze, throwing out its bony arms with 
gruesome and spectral effect. 

It was plainly evident that the worthy Principal was 
not in a very enviable frame of mind. 

“ This is an outrage ! ” he exclaimed. “ It is a 
desecration! It is ghoulish, infamous! Fun is fun, 
but there is a wide distinction between fun and crime.” 

“ Shall we let him down, Professor ? ” called Densor, 
from the foot of one of the poles. 

“ No, no. He would swing over against the other 
pole and be broken,” was the hasty response. u We 
must — er — devise some other means. Ah ! ” he 
added, in a tone of satisfaction, as Professor Prescott 
appeared with the missing ropes, “ that’s good ; that’s 
good. Where did you find them ? ” 

“ Under the wood-pile in the basement of Porter 
Hall. One of the boys stumbled on them by chance.” 

“ The outrageous miscreants ! ” exclaimed the Prin- 
cipal, with a fresh burst of wrath. 

“ Hold on ! ” exclaimed Densor, as Professor Pres- 
cott began to tie the ends of the ropes together. 

“ What’s the matter ? ” inquired the Professor, 
pausing in his work. 

“ You’ll never get a knot to run through the 
pulleys.” 

“ That’s so,” admitted the Professor. “ Is there 
any one here who can splice a rope?” 

“ I can,” said Sandy Greyson, elbowing his way 
through the crowd. 


A MORNING WITH CY DEVONS 1 1 5 

In a few minutes two neat splices were made, and 
the swaying skeleton carefully lowered to the street. 
The crowd could not refrain, however, from broad 
smiles at the spectacle presented by Professors McCleery 
and Prescott as they bore the rescued Doctor Vertebra 
carefully across the campus to his official resting- 
place — the closet of the science room in the rear 
part of the Chapel building. 

The school expected, at prayers, to have a lecture 
from the Principal on the wickedness and folly of this 
offence; but for some reason no allusion was made to 
it. Instead the announcement was made that on the 
following Friday evening there would be a levee in 
Chapel hall. 

“ What do they do at a levee? ” inquired Raymond 
of Harry Archer, as they were making their way to 
the ball-field at the close of the exercises. 

“ I believe Pember and I have already explained to 
you in a general way what a levee is,” returned Archer. 
“ I may say, however, that it is the great social event 
in the school life here at Krampton. There are gen- 
erally two of them each term. On those occasions 
the fifth article is suspended, and the boys are allowed 
to escort their best girls to and from the hall.” 

“ Yes, so I’ve been told; but what do they do after 
they get there ? ” persisted Raymond. 

“ Oh, they promenade and chat, and make eyes at 
one another.” 

“ Is that all ? ” asked Raymond, incredulously. 


Il6 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ That is the Alpha and Omega, my boy,” returned 
Archer, solemnly. “ They used to have the grand 
right and left until some one of the worthy ministers 
on our Board of Trustees found out that it was a 
dance figure. They say that some of the elders in 
the synagogue were near dropping dead at the dis- 
covery. At any rate all further indulgence in the 
frivolous grand right and left was summarily for- 
bidden.” 

“ It seems to me that we are wandering a little from 
the main question,” said Raymond. “ Inasmuch as 
the fifth article forbids all communication between the 
two departments, how is it possible for a fellow to 
get a best girl ? ” 

“ Why, pick out some good-looking young lady 
among the newcomers and mail her a note of invita- 
tion,” explained Archer. 

“ What, without any previous introduction?” ex- 
claimed Raymond, aghast. “ You are surely joking.” 

“ It’s the custom here, nevertheless,” said Archer. 
“ When you are in Rome, you know, you must do as 
the Romans do. When some good girl has taken pity 
on you from afar, you will, having previously obtained 
permission from the faculty, be permitted to call upon 
her in the public reception-room at her boarding place 
for half an hour on Saturday afternoon, if you do not 
ask the privilege too often, and provided no other 
fellow gets in ahead of you and usurps the trysting- 
place. In the latter event you will have to wait 


A MORNING WITH CY DEVONS II7 

patiently for his departure, but the walking is gen- 
erally good in this village.” 

“ I believe I exchanged a word or two on the way 
over from Dicksville with Miss Winslow, and Prof. 
McCleery introduced us to his daughter Sadie. Aside 
from them I don’t think that Ned or I have spoken 
to one of. the young ladies since we came to Kramp- 
ton.” 

“ You are in luck, fellows,” said Archer, warmly. 
“ They are both splendid girls, and I don’t believe 
either of them has been engaged for the coming levee. 
The announcement is young yet. Get into the game 
at once. You send an invitation to Miss Winslow 
this evening, Benson, and let Grover send one to Miss 
McCleery.” 

That evening the invitations suggested by Archer 
were written, in accordance with a form prescribed by 
him, and mailed to Miss Winslow and Miss McCleery. 
The following afternoon replies, in the form of two 
dainty notes of acceptance, were received through the 
post-office. 

From that moment the approaching levee assumed 
a live interest for Raymond and Ned. 


CHAPTER X 


A SARDINE SUPPER 

The levee had come and gone. The occasion had 
been favored with beautiful weather, and everything 
had passed off pleasantly. Raymond and Ned had 
found their partners most charming young ladies, who 
had been at much pains to introduce them to their 
young lady friends, and give them a pleasant evening. 
The promenades themselves, even though shorn of the 
grand right and left, had been participated in by the 
young people present — and even by some of the staid 
members of the faculty — with a zest which made 
them more enjoyable than either Raymond or Ned 
had deemed possible. 

Having seen their fair partners safely home at the 
close of the evening, they were gathered with a number 
of the other boys in A1 Wiswell’s room to participate 
in that form of Krampton dissipation known as a 
“ sardine supper.” 

It was an occasion primarily in honor of the coming 
of Wiswell’s roommate, Frank Morris, and, incident- 
ally, to swap reminiscences and talk over the evening’s 
social events. 

The curtains were closely drawn, and over them 
118 


A SARDINE SUPPER 


119 

were carefully pinned quilts and blankets. This was 
considered a necessary precaution in order that no 
frolicsome ray of light might proclaim to any passing 
member of the faculty the existence of a student con- 
clave out of hours. It may be said, however, paren- 
thetically, that the voices of the merry party could be 
heard all over the campus, and were even audible from 
the village street. It was one of the chief glories of 
Krampton Academy that its devoted teachers were 
never lacking in a warm human sympathy with the 
young life around them, and were, occasionally, con- 
tent not to see or hear too much — especially when they 
felt satisfied that no harm could result from it. 

This may account, in some measure, for the unquali- 
fied success of Wiswell’s supper. 

The study table was drawn into the center of the 
room, and neatly covered with heavy brown paper. 
Around its sides were ranged a number of opened 
sardine cans, flanked by sliced lemons. On the center 
of the board was a large paper bag, open at the top 
and filled with soda crackers. On either side of this 
was a large water pail containing lemonade. Four 
shiny tin plates, evidently fresh from the Cheap Cash 
Store, two of which were loaded with cucumber pickles, 
and two with slices of cheese, occupied places of honor 
at opposite ends of the table. Wiswell, smiling and 
radiant in a black cutaway, a high collar and white 
tie, officiated as master of ceremonies. 

“ Glad to see you, fellows,” was his cordial greeting 


120 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


to Raymond and Ned. “ Let me make you acquainted 
with my chum, Frank Morris,” he added, turning to 
a dark-eyed, thick-set young man who sat on the edge 
of the bed. 

“ Pleased to know you, boys,” said Morris, with a 
pleasant smile, rising and stepping forward to shake 
hands. “ A1 has written me about you, and I have 
felt acquainted with you ever since.” 

“ The pleasure is ours,” responded Raymond, 
warmly. 

There was something singularly attractive in the 
smile of Morris, which seemed to light up his whole 
face, and in the low, even tones of his voice. Raymond 
and Ned felt instinctively drawn to him. 

“ I guess I shall have to borrow your lounge and 
chairs, boys,” said Wiswell. “This is no afternoon 
tea, you know. At least half of the fellows are expected 
to have seats.” 

“ You are welcome to anything we have,” returned 
Raymond, promptly, and in a few moments the four 
boys had moved the desired furniture across the 
hallway. 

“ There’s still a little standing room left,” com- 
mented Wiswell, when they had disposed it to the best 
advantage. “ Come in ! Don’t stop to rap,” he called, 
as footsteps sounded along the hallway. 

Two students entered the room, in answer to this 
summons, both of whom were strangers to Raymond 
and Ned. One was of medium height, slight and wiry 


A SARDINE SUPPER 


121 


of build, with swarthy complexion, alert dark eyes and 
jet black hair. There was a distinctly solemn cast to 
his countenance, which was in marked contrast to his 
companion, who was short and fat, with merry blue 
eyes, and a round, good-natured face, which was 
wreathed in a perpetual smile. 

“ What, ho ! my Lord,” cried Wiswell, striking a 
dramatic attitude. 

“Hail, Noble Duke!” returned the dark-faced 
stranger, solemnly, unmindful of the audible giggle 
which this classical greeting drew from his companion. 

“ Let me make you acquainted with two of our new 
fellows, Benson and Grover, good neighbors of ours,” 
continued Wiswell, turning to Raymond and Ned. 
“ Shake hands, boys, with Charlie Hoyle and Dutchy 
Morse.” 

The boys greeted each other heartily, and inter- 
changed a few remarks, which were presently inter- 
rupted by the sound of tramping feet on the stairway. 
There was a din of voices along the hallway, and a 
moment later a long line of laughing, chattering boys 
were streaming into the room. Pember, Greyson, 
Archer, Cass, Baxter, Biffins and others whom Ray- 
mond and Ned had met, greeted them pleasantly, and 
they were also made acquainted with “ Long ” Bodge, 
Frank May, Si Perry, Dave Amber, Irving Wing, 
“ Judge ” Raney and a number of others whom they 
had not previously met. 

In response to Wiswell’s invitation to “ fall to,” the 


1 22 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


members of the party attacked the spread on the table 
with a vigor which proved conclusively that their 
appetites were quite in keeping with their enthusiasm. 

“ Have you heard the latest rumor, fellows? ” asked 
Wiswell, pausing a moment in his act of dipping up 
lemonade with a tin ladle. 

“ Go on,” “ Go on,” “ Let’s have it,” came from a 
number of the party, accompanied by a clapping of 
hands. 

“ They do say,” continued Wiswell, gravely, “ that 
it was Judge Raney and Dutchy Morse who hung that 
skeleton between the flagpoles.” 

A loud burst of laughter greeted this announcement. 

“ How soon we are found out,” sighed the Judge, 
with mock humility. 

“ Don’t give it away, fellows,” added Dutchy. 

“ Is that really so? ” asked Biffins, innocently. “ Sold 
again,” he added, good-naturedly, in response to the 
hearty guffaws that greeted his question. 

“ I’m glad you’ve located the right parties, Al,” 
said Hoyle, soberly. “ Most of us thought it was the 
Imp.” 

“ That’s right,” returned Biffins, with an air of 
injured innocence, “ if you can’t put it on to any one 
else, why paste it on to me. I’m the end man in all 
the deviltry that’s done at Krampton.” 

“ You fill the bill very nicely,” said Pember. “ What 
do you suppose that rascal did last night? ” he inquired, 
turning to the members of the group. 


A SARDINE SUPPER 1 23 

“ Give it up,” “ Can’t imagine,” came the answer 
in chorus. 

“ He went over to the Cheap Cash Store, and routed 
Uncle Skinner up in the middle of the night. You 
know he lives overhead,” he explained, for Raymond 
and Ned’s benefit. “ Well, the old man lit a tallow 
candle and came down barefooted in his night-robe. 
The fire had gone out, and his teeth were chattering 
with the cold. He stood round, first on one foot and 
then on the other, while the Imp priced about every- 
thing in sight, and finally bought a cent’s worth of 
gum.” 

A shout of laughter greeted this recital. 

“ Imp,” said Wiswell, with mock sternness, “ that 
was an outrage. I wonder that Uncle Skinner didn’t 

— er— ” 

“ Skin him,” completed Dutchy. 

“ That would have been justifiable homicide,” 
chuckled Bodge, “ but the old man probably didn’t 
think of the provocation until some time the next fore- 
noon.” 

“ He seemed glad to get the trade,” asserted Biffins 

— a remark which called forth another burst of merri- 
ment. 

“ That reminds me of the Imp’s experience with the 
school marm,” said Wing, reflectively. 

“What was that?” asked Amber, eagerly. 

“ Don’t spring that old chestnut,” protested Biffins, 
with a deprecatory wave of his hand. 


124 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“Let’s have it,” shouted a dozen members of the 
group in unison. 

“ Why, you see,” said Wing, nothing loath to tell 
the story, “ Imp and I roomed last summer at Henry 
Black’s. We were the only members of the Academy 
there, and in fact, the only boarders except that good 
old maiden lady, Miss Trotter, who taught the village 
school. Her room was right under Imp’s. She had 
an open fireplace there, and there was a stovepipe hole 
in the same chimney in the Imp’s room. You know 
how thick the big June-bugs were last May? Well, 
Miss Trotter was terribly afraid of them. Imp heard 
her say at the breakfast table that she couldn’t sleep 
a wink with one in the room. He also found out that 
she was keeping her windows religiously closed in a 
reckless disregard of ventilation. When I came home 
from the society meeting that night, I thought from 
the blaze of light that streamed from his windows that 
Imp must surely be having a bonfire in his room. 
You better believe I lost no time in getting up there, 
and what do you suppose I found ? ” 

“ Search us,” said Wiswell, speaking for all. “We 
never undertake to fathom Biffins.” 

“ Well, there was the Imp with his curtains rolled 
up, his lamps lighted, his windows wide open, and the 
June-bugs pouring into his room in a perfect swarm. 
He’d taken the tin disc out of the chimney, and was 
capturing those bugs and throwing them down into 
the open fireplace beneath. We could hear Miss Trot- 


A SARDINE SUPPER 


125 


ter tearing round below like a tornado. I think she 
concluded it was a visitation. Anyway, she routed 
out Mr. and Mrs. Black. Fd just got the Imp choked 
off, the curtains drawn, the windows down and the 
disc back in the chimney again, when Henry made his 
appearance on an investigating tour. We looked all 
straight enough ; but I could see that he was suspicious 
of us. He always imagined that the Imp was at the 
bottom of any unusual occurrence.” 

“ Yes,” sighed Biffins, “ he got so at last that he 
laid all the rainy days to me. He finally grew so bad 
that I had to move out.” 

The members of the group exchanged smiles. 

“ Indeed,” said Wing, dryly. “ I’m glad to know 
how it was. I always supposed that Henry invited 
you to go.” 

“ How did Miss Trotter get rid of the June-bugs? ” 
inquired Sandy Greyson. 

“ Oh, Mrs. Black caught them for her after a while. 
You couldn't have got Miss Trotter to touch one of 
them with her hands for love or money. Mrs. Black 
told me that there was something mysterious about it 
all. She said that half a dozen times they felt sure 
that they'd got the last of them, when all at once a 
fresh batch would put in an appearance. She expressed 
the opinion that they must have come down the chim- 
ney. I tell you, fellows, I had hard work to keep a 
straight face when the Imp remarked very soberly that 
it really looked as if that must have been the way.” 


126 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Wing’s narrative evoked much merriment and called 
forth a running fire of jest and comment. 

“ I wonder if the Imp knows who dumped the 
cayenne pepper into the stew at the church sociable 
last winter ? ” said Archer. 

“ Something should have been put in it,” giggled 
Dutchy. “ I know for a fact that Si Perry swiped 
the oyster.” 

“ Yes,” said Perry, gravely, “ and he turned out, 
on careful investigation, to be nothing but a clam.” 

“ I’m half inclined to believe, after all,” remarked 
Frank May, “ that it was the Imp who tied those two 
cats by the tails and hung them over the clothes-line 
by the ladies’ dormitory.” 

“ Hold on there,” protested Biffins. “ Charge me 
with anything under the sun; but don’t accuse me 
of abusing dumb animals.” 

“ I gathered from what the ladies said that they 
were anything but dumb,” observed Pember. “ I 
imagine — ” 

“ Hush ! ” whispered Wiswell, warningly, as foot- 
steps sounded in the hallway. 

A moment later Moker stood in the doorway smiling 
his acknowledgments to the clapping of hands and cries 
of greeting that welcomed his appearance. 

“ Go easy, fellows,” he implored, as he closed the 
door carefully behind him. “ Pve taken my life in my 
hands to be with you to-night. You know I’m on five 
o’clock probation.” 


A SARDINE SUPPER 12J 

Exclamations of astonishment came from the group, 
and Moker was assailed by a torrent of questions. 

“ One at a time, please,” he cried, with a shrug of 
his shoulders. “ I suppose you’ll all find out about 
it sooner or later, so you might as well have it straight. 
You see some of us thought it would be a good thing 
to go down to Clarence Bean’s room and scissor off 
those horrible chin whiskers he’s been growing.” 

“ A truly noble purpose,” commented the Judge, 
approvingly. 

“ I feel better now that justice has spoken,” added 
Moker. 

“ Resume,” commanded Wiswell, with impressive 
brevity. 

“Well, five or six of the fellows agreed to help; 
but when I got down there the only one of them to 
put in an appearance was Ben Dorkins. We hadn’t 
been there but a few minutes when we heard some 
one coming up the stairs. We supposed of course it 
was the other fellows; still, we didn’t want to take 
any chances, so we crawled under the bed. We were 
scarcely stowed away when in walked Prof. Morton 
and Prof. Prescott.” 

“ Weren’t you lucky ! ” exclaimed Harry Archer. 

“ Well, not altogether,” sighed Moker. “ Of course 
they sat down and passed the time o’ day with Bean. 
Then Professor Morton coughed and cleared his throat, 
and remarked, in that purring voice of his : ‘ The young 
man under the bed may come out.’ ” 


128 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Moker was interrupted at this point by a roar of 
laughter. 

“ Funny, wasn’t it?” he growled, resentfully. “I 
wish some of you fellows had to take the same dose. 
Well, I was on the outside, so of course I was the one 
who had to come. I crawled out on my hands and 
knees, put on the best front I knew how, and remarked 
as cheerfully as I could, * Good-evening, Professor.’ 
I think I never felt quite so cheap in my life.” 

“ What did he have to say? ” asked Morris, eagerly. 

“ Oh, nothing much. He read me the riot act for 
being out after study hours, and demanded to know 
what I was there for.” 

“What did you say to that?” queried Wiswell. 

“ Told him of course that I was making a social 
call on Bean.” 

“ How did he comment on that? ” asked the Judge. 

“ I thought he looked a little queer ; but he didn’t 
dispute me. He simply ordered me home, and left 
the room.” 

“ And of course you immediately sought your own 
vine and fig tree, like a good little boy,” said the Judge, 
soothingly. 

“ I did nothing of the kind,” retorted Moker. “ I 
was mad clear down to my toes. I’d have stayed then 
if they’d bounced me for it — I would, upon my soul, 
and I told Prof. Prescott so flat-footed.” 

“ How did he take that ? ” asked Hoyle. 

“ Oh, he laughed, in his good-natured way, and 


A SARDINE SUPPER 


129 


advised me not to get warm under the collar. He 
added that he hadn’t asked me to go, and that he was 
perfectly willing for me to stay, at least as long as he 
did. Then he told me to go into the closet and tell 
the young man in there to come out. I opened the 
door, stepped a little ways into the closet and shouted : 
‘ Prof. Prescott wants you to come out/ Then I went 
back and sat down again. * What did he say ? ’ asked 
the Prof.” 

“ ‘ He didn’t say anything,’ I answered. Then he 
turned to Clarence. 

“‘You go in there, Bean,’ he said, ‘and tell that 
young man that Professor Prescott wants him to come 
out immediately/ Of course Bean had taken his cue 
from me, and went through the same performance. 

“ ‘ What did he say ? ’ asked the Prof. 

“ ‘ He didn’t say anything/ replied Bean. 

“ ‘ Is there any one in there ? ’ he asked. 

“ ‘ No,’ said Bean. 

“ Then he turned to me, and repeated the same 
question. Of course I gave him the same answer. 
‘ Why don’t you go in and see for yourself? ’ I asked. 

“ ‘ No,’ he replied, ‘ I’m going to take your word 
for it.’ Then he got up and lay down on the bed and 
remarked that it felt very comfortable. ‘ I’ve been 
a Krampton student myself,’ he said. ‘ I’m perfectly 
satisfied that there’s another boy hiding here some- 
where, and I think I’ll remain right where I am until 
he puts in an appearance.’ That was too much for 


I3O RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

Ben. He saw the jig was up, so he crawled out on 
the other side of the bed, put on a sickly grin and 
remarked, ‘ How are you, Professor ? ’ ” 

“ What did Prescott say to that?” asked Wiswell. 

“ He laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. 
Then he reached across the bed and shook hands with 
Ben. < How are you, Dorkins ? ’ he said. ‘ Rather 
uncomfortable under there, wasn’t it ? — and Ben 
confessed that it was. Then the Prof got up, bade 
us good-night, and went chuckling down the stairs.” 

“ That’s just like Prescott,” said the Judge. “ He 
comes nearer being one of the boys than any other 
man on the faculty.” 

“ He doesn’t stand on his dignity,” admitted Moker, 
“ but I honestly believe that he can see through a hole 
in a grindstone quicker than any one of them.” 

Shortly after Moker’s narrative, the members of the 
party took their departure. Raymond and Ned were 
about to follow them when Wiswell asked them to 
remain a while. “ It’s only the edge of the evening, 
and you can sleep in the morning as late as you wish. 
Devons asked me to say to you that, on account of the 
levee, you could postpone your practice with him till 
right after dinner.” 

Raymond and Ned accepted the invitation, and pres- 
ently found themselves gathered around the stove with 
Wiswell, Morris and Moker, in a somewhat animated 
discussion of the latter’s recent unhappy experience. 


CHAPTER XI 


moker’s experience in a warm closet 

“ Do you know, George,” said Wiswell, slowly, “ that 
there’s something mighty funny to me in that business 
in Bean’s room. I never heard of a fellow being put 
on five o’clock probation for merely being caught out 
after study hours.” 

“ I never did before,” said Moker. 

“ When did you get the announcement?” 

“ Right after Chapel this afternoon.” 

“ Do you suppose the faculty suspect you of having 
had a hand in that skeleton affair ? ” 

“ Why should they ? In the first place I wouldn’t 
have been very likely to have engaged in that kind of 
a prank at this stage of my course, and besides if 
they’d been going to jump on me for that they’d at 
least have given me a hearing.” 

“ I think Moker is right about that,” interposed 
Morris. “ I don’t believe the faculty has any idea that 
he was connected with the skeleton matter.” 

“ That’s what I think,” said Moker. “ I’ve won- 
dered a little if my church record had anything to do 
with it.” 


I32 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Your church record? ” repeated Wiswell, in a tone 
of surprise. 

“ Yes. You know I can’t bear to sit under Elder 
Bradley — there, don’t lecture me, Al. I’ll admit I’m 
wrong and all that, but it’s the honest truth. I recog- 
nize the fact that he’s a good old man — the salt of 
the earth; but I don’t believe in his theology. Prof. 
Morton called me up about the middle of last year, and 
notified me that if I expected to stay in the Academy 
I must attend church on Sundays. After that I would 
go in and get a back seat, and after the opening prayer, 
while the choir was singing, I would sneak away. 
They dropped on to that after a while, and then I 
changed my tactics. I waited until the good man was 
making his closing prayer, when I would steal in and 
take a back seat by the door. You see, fellows, I was 
perfectly willing to stand his prayers if I could only 
get rid of his sermons. They sized up the situation, 
however, and summoned me before the faculty. Then 
I took a square stand. I told them plainly that I did 
not believe in their creed, and if they were determined 
to ram it down my throat they might expel me then 
and there.” 

“ That must have started them going some,” com- 
mented Morris. 

“ It did. I felt for a while as if I’d stirred up a 
hornet’s nest. Professor McCleery was as mad as a 
wet hen. He told me that I had been in the Academy 
long enough to know, if I knew anything, that matters 


moker's experience in a warm closet 133 

of religious creed were never permitted to enter in any 
way into its educational work. He said that there 
were representatives of all religious creeds among the 
students, and that Elder Bradley, recognizing this fact, 
had been careful in his sermons to avoid anything that 
would be distasteful to them.” 

“ That's very true, George,” said Wiswell, with 
decision. 

“ Oh, I don't deny it,” returned Moker, “ but I told 
them that inasmuch as there was only one church in 
the village, their regulations practically forced one to 
sit under its teachings, and that, so far as I was con- 
cerned, I did not care to do it.” 

“ You were wrong, Moker,” said Wiswell. “ I'll 
admit that Elder Bradley is rather prosy — I usually 
sleep through a portion of the service — but no fellow 
will ever derive any harm from his sermons, and many, 
I am sure, have been greatly benefited by them.” 

“ That may all be, Al, but I am not of that number. 
I expected that the faculty would let me go; but a few 
days later I was notified that I had been appointed one 
of the church ushers. That lets me out. I am very 
much in evidence while the congregation is coming in ; 
but when it is all seated I take my hat and go home. 
I didn't know, though, but that they had laid it up 
against me.” 

“ Nonsense!” exclaimed Morris. “ You are super- 
sensitive. I don't believe the faculty cares a rap about 
that matter. It looks to me, however, very much as 


134 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


if some one had betrayed your plan to remove Bean’s 
whiskers. Who were going to help you out in it ? ” 

“ Why, Dorkins, Graves, Bissell and Bliss — ” 

“ Bliss ! ” exclaimed Wiswell, in amazement, “ I 
thought he never indulged in such pranks.” 

“ He never used to ; but he’s feeling awfully sore 
over his own probation. He told me that he might 
as well be hung for an old sheep as a lamb. That’s 
how I came to ask him.” 

“He was willing enough to go, was he?” pursued 
Wiswell. 

“Yes; seemed to jump at the chance.” 

“ And then went back on you? ” 

“ I don’t know about that. He didn’t show up, but 
perhaps he may have found out that the Profs were 
there.” 

“ I don’t like the looks of it, George,” declared 
Wiswell. “ It’s quite likely that Graves and Bissell 
may have lost their nerve at the last moment. Neither 
of them ever had much at best. Bliss, however, is 
built on a different plan. It looks as if he’d tried to 
square himself by giving you away to the faculty.” 

Moker looked troubled. “ I should hate to believe 
it,” he said, slowly. “ It doesn’t seem possible. I don’t 
recall that I ever had any differences with Bliss, and 
besides, you know he’s a brother Literii. I — ” he 
paused abruptly and passed his hand nervously over 
his face. “ I can’t believe that,” he added, presently, 
as if he had finally dismissed the thought. 


moker's experience in a warm closet 135 

“ It may be because you are a brother society man 
that he dislikes you,” said Morris, quietly. “ He may 
have the address bee in his bonnet.” 

“ The address?” inquired Ned, who, like Raymond, 
had thus far been a quiet listener to the conversation. 
“ What is that ? ” 

“ Each society elects one of its members in the senior 
class to deliver a farewell address on graduation day,” 
explained Wiswell. “ It is regarded as the great honor 
of the course.” 

“ I don’t think Bliss has any aspirations in that 
direction; that is, he has given me to understand so,” 
said Moker, with a shake of his head. 

“ Don’t be too sure, George,” returned Wiswell. 
“ It’s mighty funny what brought the members of the 
faculty to Bean’s room at that precise time, and what 
made Prof. Prescott so positive that there was another 
fellow hiding there somewhere. Looks to me as if 
he’d been watching the house, and spotted you when 
you went in.” 

“ But if he knew that there were two of us there, 
Morton would have known it also, wouldn’t he ? ” 
asked Moker, incredulously. 

“ Not necessarily,” said Wiswell. “ Prescott doesn’t 
always tell all he knows, even to brother members of 
the faculty.” 

“ I think you’re on the wrong scent, boys,” declared 
Moker. “ How does it strike you, Benson? ” he asked, 
turning to Raymond. 


I36 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ I’m afraid I’m not qualified to pass an unbiased 
opinion on Mr. Bliss,” declared Raymond, evasively. 

Moker laughed good-naturedly. 

“ Excuse me,” he said. “ I had forgotten your 
set-to with him.” 

The conversation was interrupted by the sound of 
some one coming up the stairs. Moker rose from his 
chair and listened nervously. “ It won’t do for any 
member of the faculty to catch me here,” he said, in 
a low voice. I must hide somewhere.” 

“ Perhaps you’d better crawl under the bed,” said 
Wiswell, with a grin. 

“ Thanks, awfully,” returned Moker. “ Not to-day.” 

“ Then try the closet. The floor is pretty well 
covered with wood; but you can stand on my trunk.” 

“ It’s a little too near the stove for comfort,” com- 
mented Moker; “but I guess I can stand it a while.’ 

Scarcely had the closet door closed on Moker, when 
Professor Prescott entered the room. 

“ Pretty near bedtime, isn’t it, boys ? ” he asked, 
with a good-natured smile. 

“ Very close to it,” replied Wiswell, “ but you know 
we shall have plenty of time for sleep to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ That’s so,” admitted the Professor, “ but I wouldn’t 
stay up much longer, if I were you.” 

He turned, and was about to leave the room, when, 
to the utter amazement of Raymond and Ned, Wiswell 
detained him. 


moker’s experience in a warm closet 137 

“ What’s your hurry, Professor ? ” he asked, cor- 
dially. “ Sit down a while. We’ve been having a 
little lemonade and some sardines.” 

“ So I observed,” said the Professor glancing at the 
table, which was still strewn with the remnants of the 
feast. 

“ Won’t you have a bite with us ? ” continued 
Wiswell. 

“ Pm getting a little too old for such dissipations,” 
said the Professor, taking the chair which Wiswell 
proffered him, “ but just to be sociable on this special 
occasion I will try a sardine, a cracker, and a little of 
the lemonade.” 

“ It’s getting chilly here, I think,” pursued Wiswell, 
after he had supplied the Professor’s wants; and Ray- 
mond and Ned were horrified to see him open the stove 
door and fill the big Franklin heater with wood. 

“ This reminds me of the time when I was a student 
here myself,” said Professor Prescott, reminiscently, 
as he sipped his lemonade. “ It wasn’t so very long 
ago, either,” he added. 

“ I believe you were in school with my mother’s 
brother, George Canfield ? ” observed Wiswell, inter- 
rogatively. 

“ George Canfield ! ” repeated the Professor, “ I want 
to know if you are his nephew? Dear me, how quickly 
the time does fly. Yes, George was one of my dearest 
friends. What is he doing now ? ” 

“ He’s a lawyer in Minneapolis.” 


I38 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ I want to know? Well, I’ll wager you he’s a good 
one. I never knew a fellow who was more thorough 
in whatever he undertook to do. He had a natural 
gift of oratory, too, which should stand him in good 
stead as a member of the legal profession. I recall 
very well the prominent part he used to take in the 
society discussions — thank you, I’ll try just one more,” 
he added, as Wiswell passed him the crackers and 
sardines. “ Did you ever hear your Uncle George tell 
about the time we gave Finn Marden a dinner at the 
town-meeting ? ” 

“ No, I don’t recall that I ever did,” said Wiswell. 

“ He was a quaint old character,” continued the 
Professor, “ who used to saw wood and do odd jobs 
about town — poor fellow, he’s dead now,” he sighed, 
reflectively. “ He was only a half-witted, harmless old 
man, and I do not recall that he was ever specially 
distinguished for anything save his marvellous gastro- 
nomic powers. Really, I don’t believe there were any 
three men in town who could eat as much at a single 
meal as he could. The town-meeting in those days 
was held in an old, dilapidated hall, long since torn 
down, which stood near the cross-roads at the North 
corner. Right across from it lived an old widowed 
lady known to us boys as Aunt Hepsie. She was a 
motherly old soul, but inclined to be a trifle miserly. 
She used to do mending and washing for us boys, 
notwithstanding the fact that when she finally passed 
away she left a very substantial property. It was 


moker's experience in a warm closet 139 

always her custom to serve a dinner at her house on 
town-meeting day, which consisted chiefly of baked 
beans, brown bread and several kinds of cake and, pie. 
Her price for this dinner was twenty-five cents. Your 
Uncle George and I were just going into her front 
yard for one of these dinners when we happened to 
spy Finn coming away from the town house. On the 
impulse of the moment we invited him in to eat with 
us. It was very evident that Aunt Hepsie had never 
heard of Finn’s stronghold, for she greeted us with 
her usual cordiality. We paid her for all three in 
advance. Your Uncle George and I were hearty, 
growing young fellows in those days, and we did 
ample justice to the repast. 

“ When we were ready to leave the table, however, 
Finn, having disposed of several plates of beans, what 
biscuits there were within reach and a dish of pilot- 
bread, was just getting squared away for a good meal. 
We sat back in our chairs to watch the fun. For a 
time both of the girls who were assisting Aunt Hepsie 
by waiting on the table, were fairly on the run attend- 
ing to his wants. I could see the old lady peering in 
anxiously now and then through the partially open 
door leading to the kitchen, to see if there was any 
prospect of a finish. I never saw a greater look of 
relief than came onto all of their faces when Finn 
finally called for pie. They thought he was at last 
on the home stretch; but they little knew the vagaries 
of his appetite, After he had disposed of generous 


140 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


samples of four different kinds of pastry, and they 
were expecting to see him leave the table, he demor- 
alized them all by again calling for beans. Aunt 
Hepsie was desperate. She motioned your Uncle 
George to come into the kitchen. 

“ 4 When will that awful man get through ? ’ she 
asked. 

“ ‘ I don’t know,’ said George. ‘ He’s sampled your 
dinner, and it looks now as if he were getting ready 
to eat something.’ 

“ ‘ Can’t you stop him ? ’ she begged. 

“ * I don’t think I can, Aunt Hepsie,’ he replied. 
‘ It really looks as if you would have to open another 
pot of beans.’ 

“ The good woman was desperate. She took out 
a quarter and handed it to George. 

“ ‘ Here, dearie,’ she said, with tears in her eyes, 
‘ here’s your money. Now please, please, for my sake, 
get that man away.’ 

“We had quite a time choking Finn off; but we 
finally got him outside. I don’t think there was money 
enough in town to hire Aunt Hepsie to feed him 
again. Well, George was a generous fellow after all, 
and before we left he went back into the house and 
slipped a dollar bill into Aunt Hepsie’s hand. That 
cheered her up a little; but I don’t think she ever felt 
that it fully paid her for all that Finn ate that day. 
In fact I always thought that she rather laid it up 
against George and me.” 



The door swung slowly open. — Page 141 





moker’s experience in a warm closet 141 

The boys laughed heartily at this recital, and Wis- 
well improved the opportunity to again fill the big 
stove with wood. 

“ It seems to me, Mr. Wiswell, that the room is 
very comfortable/’ said the Professor, wiping the per- 
spiration from his face with his handkerchief. 

“ Is it?” replied Wiswell, innocently. “I thought 
it seemed a little chilly.” 

The Professor rose from his chair. “ I must really 
be going,” he said. “ I want to give you boys a chance 
to go to bed.” 

“ Don’t hurry,” urged Wiswell. “ It’s only the edge 
of the evening.” 

“ The outer edge,” said the Professor, with a laugh, 
as he opened the door. “ Good-night, boys,” and a 
moment later they heard his brisk footsteps going down 
the stairs. 

The closet door was pushed cautiously open a little 
way. 

“ Is he gone ? ” asked a muffled voice from the 
interior. 

“ Yes,” replied Morris. “ The coast is all clear, 
George.” 

The door swung slowly open, and Moker, stark 
naked and reeking with perspiration, stepped from the 
top of the trunk into the room. “ Al,” he gasped, 
“ I’ve a good mind to murder you.” 

“ You look warm, George,” returned Wiswell, solic- 
itously. 


142 RAYMOND BENSON At KRAMPtON 

“ Warm ! Confound you ! ” shouted Moker. “ I 
was pretty near roasted alive ! ” 

“ Why/’ returned Wiswell, coolly, “ it’s been really 
chilly out here. You better go back and dress, George. 
You’ll get your death a-cold.” 

“ Besides,” added Morris, soberly, “ you must remem- 
ber that you are in a civilized country among gentle- 
men, and not ‘ a fair barbarian ’ in darkest Africa.” 

Moker paused for a moment, undecided whether to 
get mad or not; but finally gathered up his clothing 
from the top of the trunk in the closet and bolted for 
the bedroom — from which he soon emerged fully 
dressed. 

“ I am glad to see you clothed and in your right 
mind, old man,” was Wiswell’s greeting. 

“ Yes,” added Morris, solemnly. “ It is certainly 
a relief to find that you are not really the demented 
creature you appeared to be a short time ago.” 

Moker had recovered his usual equanimity. 

“ I believe this was all an infernal Socii plot to roast 
me alive,” he laughed. “ That was a little the hottest 
place I was ever in. If I’d had a gun, Al, there were 
about a dozen times when I believe I should have used 
it on you. I began to get sweaty the minute you shut 
me in there. Talk about a Turkish bath! There is 
no comparison! I commenced immediately after the 
door closed to remove my surplus clothing, and I 
sacrificed it all, a little at a time. Oh, wasn’t I mad 
when you invited old stick-in-the-mud to stop.” 


moker’s experience in a warm closet 143 

“ You must remember that the rules forbid disre- 
spectful language to, or in respect to, members of the 
faculty,” remonstrated Morris. 

“ I thought you would enjoy hearing his Aunt 
Hepsie story,” explained Wiswell. 

“ Aunt grandmother ! ” retorted Moker, disgustedly. 
“ You were so enthusiastic over that yarn that I was 
afraid he’d spring some other old moss-grown story 
on you.” 

Moker paused a moment, while a new light came 
into his eyes and the suspicion of a smile played about 
the corners of his mouth. 

“ Do you know what I’d made up my mind to do 
if the old boy opened that closet door?” he asked, 
abruptly. 

“ I haven’t the slightest idea,” said Wiswell. 

“ I was going to stride into the room, strike a 
dramatic attitude, and exclaim after the manner of 
Hamlet’s parental shade, * I am your father’s ghost.’ ” 

“ You wouldn’t have dared to,” laughed Wiswell, 
incredulously. 

“ Ah, but I would, though. It would have been 
my finish, anyway, and I made up my mind to have 
at least one good crack before I went. I suppose you 
call it square now, do you, A1 ? ” 

“ The debt is settled,” returned Wiswell, with a 
smile. 


CHAPTER XII 


RAYMOND FINDS HIS STOLEN WATCH. 

“ What is the debt, George?” inquired Morris. 

Moker looked at Wiswell with an expansive grin. 

“ I wasn’t going to do it, Al,” he said, “ but I 
retract all promises. You don’t deserve any further 
consideration.” 

“ Let’s have it,” chorused Raymond and Ned. 

“ I guess you’ve talked enough for one evening,” 
interposed Wiswell, severely. 

“ No, I’m just beginning to wake up,” replied Moker, 
laughingly. “ I don’t intend to let any of you go to 
bed now before morning. These other fellows deserve 
a little punishment for not interfering in your fiendish 
career. You . remember the night last summer when 
we strung B. Frothingham Pendleton’s bicycle up 
between the flagpoles ? ” he asked, turning to Morris. 

“ I’ve heard something about it,” was the smiling 
response. 

“ You see,” explained Moker to Raymond and Ned, 
“ it was the first one to come to town, and therefore 
something of a curiosity. Pen, who was inclined to 
be somewhat theatrical, spent most of the first day 
after it arrived in riding up and down the village 

144 


RAYMOND FINDS HIS STOLEN WATCH I45 

street for the purpose of showing it off. Some of us 
fellows thought we’d help him out a little. We are 
naturally philanthropic, you know.” 

“ Yes, we’ve heard as much,” said Ned. 

“ So we took his wheel after he had gone to bed,” 
continued Moker, ignoring the interruption, “ and 
strung it up between the flagpoles in the place lately 
occupied by Doctor Vertebra. I was detailed to watch 
one end of the street, and Wiswell the other. About 
the time the fellows at the poles were putting on the 
finishing touches, I started down the street on the dead 
run. When I got opposite Al, I called out, in a stage 
whisper, * Profs.’ You should have seen him sprint.” 

Moker threw back his head and indulged a hearty 
laugh. 

“ Never saw anything like it in my life,” he ejac- 
ulated. 

“ Except the time Prof. Prescott chased you out of 
his orchard,” commented Wiswell, grimly. 

“ He made about a dozen leaps across the campus,” 
continued Moker, ignoring the allusion, “ cleared the 
fence with one bound, and the last I saw of him was 
a glimmer of his light trousers, as they ploughed 
through that swale in the rear of the Chapel.” 

“ You must always take what Moker tells you with 
a grain of salt,” remarked Wiswell to Raymond and 
Ned. “ Ask Frank.” 

“ You can’t ring me in on this,” protested Morris. 
“ It sounds truthful.” 


146 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Never go back on your chum in a pinch,” admon- 
ished Wiswell, reproachfully. 

“ When we got through with our work,” resumed 
Moker, “ we walked quietly down to Al’s room. We 
found him changing his clothes. They looked as if 
they’d been through the war. Never wore them again, 
did you, Al?” 

“ You can’t prove anything by me,” responded 
Wiswell, joining good-naturedly in the laugh which 
greeted Moker’s narrative. 

“ That may be said to have been the crowning point 
in the Krampton career of B. Frothingham Pendleton,” 
said Moker. “ He only stayed with us one term.” 

“ Poor Frothpen ! ” sighed Wiswell. “ He had his 
little eccentricities, but he owned a big heart, and it 
was located in the right spot.” 

“ On the left side,” added Moker. 

“ I remember his wardrobe when he first dawned 
upon us in all his splendor,” continued Wiswell. “ It 
was somewhat extensive for Krampton. There were 
about a dozen different suits in it. These he wore in 
rotation — with morning and afternoon changes — 
until he had shown them all. Then he commenced on 
the combinations.” 

“ The combinations ? ” questioned Raymond, with a 
puzzled look. 

“ Yes, a coat and a vest of one material, and trousers 
of another. I don’t know just how long that continued. 
You good mathematicians can figure it out. When 


RAYMOND FINDS HIS STOLEN WATCH 1 47 

it finally seemed to us that he had reached the end of 
his resources, he dazzled us all by producing some 
white vests, which he wore in order with his different 
coats. After that came some fancy silk vests, with 
corresponding opportunities for change. In fact, I 
think that in the matter of dress, Frothpen — as we 
all called him for short — was never known to repeat 
himself.” 

“ He certainly had poetic powers of expression,” 
added Moker. “ The second day he was here Annie 
Drew and Emma Bailey were practicing on a piano 
in the music-room, when the door opened and in 
walked Frothpen, carrying his gold-headed cane in the 
hollow of his arm. He lifted his hat with the grace 
of a Chesterfield, and remarked sweetly, * Attracted by 
the sound of music, I directed my footsteps hither/ ” 

“ What did the girls say ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ They burst out laughing right in his face. They 
said they felt ashamed of it, but they really couldn’t 
help it.” 

“ I’m sorry we couldn’t have known him,” said Ned. 

“ It is too bad,” replied Morris, “ but then,” he added, 
with twinkling eyes, “ you’ve met Moker. You have 
observed that he represents the other extreme at 
Krampton in the matter of dress.” 

“ That’s right ! Rub it in,” responded Moker. 

Soon after the party broke up. The day was just 
breaking when Raymond and Ned finally got to bed. 

For some time following Wiswell’s sardine supper 


14$ RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

little occurred out of the ordinary channels. Ray- 
mond and Ned made Saturday afternoon calls upon 
Miss Winslow and Miss McCleery, and were cordially 
received. They improved the opportunity to engage 
the company of the young ladies for the next levee, 
which came off in due season, and, with a large 
acquaintance with the students of the Academy in 
both departments, proved even more enjoyable than 
the first. 

The daily practice with Devons was faithfully kept 
up, with the result that Raymond soon attained a pro- 
ficiency in throwing the curves that he had never 
dreamed of, while Ned developed into an exceptionally 
clever catcher. 

Professor Chapin, the instructor in elocution, who 
had been delayed in taking up his usual course by a 
series of public readings which he had been engaged 
to give in connection with a lecture course, arrived at 
Krampton about the middle of the term. 

His return was signalized by a public reading in the 
Chapel hall. Raymond and Ned listened in delighted 
wonder. The work of this fine elocutionist was a 
revelation to them. They marvelled at the range and 
flexibility of his voice, the wonderful play of facial 
expression, and the easy grace of his gestures, which 
seemed to fit into the spirit of his recitals with spon- 
taneous appropriateness. He was able to carry the 
audience along with him by the very truth and sympa- 
thetic vividness of his interpretations. It was the 


RAYMOND FINDS HIS STOLEN WATCH I49 

touch of positive power; the vital spark of genius that 
marks a genuine artist in any department of human 
endeavor. 

Raymond and Ned did not fully appreciate this at 
the time. They only knew that they were carried along 
in spite of themselves by this man, who played upon 
the sympathies and emotions of his audience as upon 
the strings of a harp. They could not restrain their 
tears at the melting tenderness of the “ Fireman’s 
Prayer,” or the infinite pathos that breathed from 
“ The Burning of Pemberton Mills.” Again the mood 
changed, and they found themselves laughing aloud, in 
a very exuberance of mirth, at the humors of “ Horace 
Greeley’s Ride,” and “ Brother Watkins’s Farewell.” 

The evening passed on wings, and they made their 
way home, at the close of the entertainment, wondering 
what had become of it. 

They lost no time in joining Professor Chapin’s class 
of beginners, and soon found themselves acquiring 
something of that ease and grace of expression that 
they had so admired in the speakers at the Literii and 
Socii meetings. 

The term wore gradually to a close. The final day 
came at last, and, as Professor Morton dismissed the 
class in Greek, he asked Raymond to remain a moment 
after the others had gone. He obeyed with the thought 
running through his mind that possibly his somewhat 
indifferent work in Greek had not ranked sufficiently 
high to pass him. He was therefore greatly relieved 


150 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

when the Professor simply asked him to serve as one 
of the ushers at the Middle Class exercises that evening, 
and accepted the task with an alacrity that would have 
been wanting under other circumstances. 

Returning to his room he met Biffins in the hallway. 

“ I may not see you again, Benson,” said the Imp, 
slowly, “ so I will say good-by now.” 

“You mean au revoir ” returned Raymond. 

Biffins slowly shook his head, and Raymond saw 
with surprise that there were tears in his eyes. 

“ No, good-by,” he said, in a voice that choked a 
little in spite of an effort to conceal his emotion. “ I 
wasn’t cut out for a scholar, Benson,” he said, regret- 
fully. “ I have idled away my opportunities for an 
education, and now they are gone. I have no father 
and mother. Both are dead, you know — and my 
guardian has written me that my reports have been 
so unsatisfactory that he has decided that it is simply 
a waste of time and money to keep me here. He 
wants me to learn the machinist’s trade. I don’t 
blame him. He’s right, and yet — and yet,” his voice 
broke again, “ I shall hate to leave the old school,” 
he admitted tremulously. “ Some of the fellows have 
been good to me, and some of them haven’t. On the 
whole, though, I guess I’ve been treated better than I 
deserved. I want to thank you for all your kindness 
to me this term, and if I shouldn’t see Grover, thank 
him for me, too. I am glad I have had a chance to 
know you both. I shall remember you with pleasure.” 


RAYMOND FINDS HIS STOLEN WATCH 1 5 1 

“But when are you going?” inquired Raymond. 

“ On the early stage to Dicksville to-morrow morn- 
ing.” 

Biffins took out his watch and glanced at it. “ Same 
old habit,” he sighed. “ This is my last recitation at 
Krampton and I’m ten minutes late for it. Good-by. 
Perhaps I may see you later,” and he turned away, 
leaving Raymond looking after him with conflicting 
emotions. 

“ What’s the matter with you, old man ? ” asked 
Ned, a moment later, as his roommate entered the 
room, threw his books upon the table, and paced 
excitedly back and forth in evident turmoil of spirit. 
“ Did the old boy roast you ? ” 

“ No,” returned Raymond, absently. “ He only 
wanted me to be one of the ushers at the exercises 
to-night.” 

Ned looked relieved. 

“ Oh, is that all ? ” he asked. “ Well, cheer up, there 
isn’t anything very bad about that. I should regard 
it as an honor.” 

Raymond turned and faced him with a troubled 
look. 

“ It isn’t that, Ned,” he cried, impetuously. “ I’ve 
seen my watch.” 

“Where?” demanded Ned, incredulously. 

“ Biffins had it.” 

“ Biffins ! ” exclaimed Ned, in tones of amazement. 
“ You surely must be mistaken.” 


152 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ No,” returned Raymond, with decision. “ There 
is no mistake about it. I — I don’t understand it. 
He seemed so cordial, and showed so much real 
feeling.” 

“ I don’t follow you,” said Ned. “ You are talking 
a little wild.” 

“ Why, he stopped me in the hall just now to say 
good-by to me. He said he was through. His guar- 
dian is going to take him out of school, and let him 
learn the machinist’s trade. He seemed to feel very 
badly about it; could scarcely control his voice when 
he told me. Then he thanked me for the kindness I 
had shown him and told me to thank you for him. 
He seemed to feel it, too. There were tears in his 
eyes. Then he pulled out his watch, and said he was 
late, and — ” 

“ And what?” asked Ned, impatiently. 

“ Hurried away. I knew the watch the minute I 
laid eyes on it. There could be no mistake. It was 
the one mother gave me.” 

Ned thrust his hands into his trousers pockets, and 
gave a prolonged whistle. 

“ Why didn’t you take it away from him ? ” he 
demanded. 

“ I was dazed. I didn’t know what to think. I 
wasn’t looking for anything of the kind, you know.” 

Ned walked up and down the room in a brown 
study. 

“ I can’t understand it at all,” he said, presently. 


RAYMOND FINDS HIS STOLEN WATCH 1 53 

“ If Biffins took your watch why should he be wearing 
it openly, and showing it in your presence? Don’t 
make any mistakes, old man. It’s better to be sure 
than to be sorry.” 

“We can’t go very slow,” said Raymond, impatiently. 
“ Whatever is done will have to be done right away. 
Biffins leaves town on the early morning stage.” 

“ I don’t know how to advise you,” said Ned, in 
great perplexity. “ Why don’t you lay the whole 
matter before Professor McCleery, and get his advice 
on it?” 

“I’d thought of that; but he will be on the jump 
until after the exercises this evening. Besides, I 
thought it might be better for you and me to see 
Biffins first.” 

“ That’s right,” assented Ned. “ We ought to give 
him a chance to be heard before we accuse him to the 
faculty. I’ll tell you what — suppose you and I go 
to Biffins’ room right after the exercises, and see what 
he’s got to say for himself. Then, if he can’t show a 
clean hand, we can take the matter to Prof. McCleery.” 

“ I guess that’s the best plan,” assented Raymond, 
after a moment’s reflection, “ but honestly, old man, I 
don’t know what to think about it. I’m all broken up.” 

Chapel hall was well crowded that evening, and for 
a time Raymond was too busily employed in seating 
the audience to think of the watch. The matter was 
brought back to his mind, however, in the midst of 
the exercises, by the sudden appearance of Biffins, who 


154 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

brushed hastily by him, raced frantically up the side 
aisle, and disappeared through the door leading to the 
stage in the rear of the wings. Raymond turned in 
surprise to find that the Imp was being pursued by 
two stalwart young men, whom he recognized as Pete 
and Jim Dixfill, two town boys, of somewhat shady 
reputation, who resided with their widowed mother in 
a tumble-down house a mile or two out of the village. 
Pete, the elder of the two, was in advance of his brother, 
and would probably have followed Biffins onto the 
stage, had not Raymond caught him by the sleeve and 
detained him. 

“ Let me go,” he snarled, in a hoarse whisper. 

“ You’ll have to go back into the rear of the hall,” 
said Raymond, firmly. “ Don’t you see you are dis- 
turbing the speakers ? ” 

“ I want that fellow,” insisted Dixfill, sullenly, “ and 
what’s more I’m going to have him.” 

“ You’ll have to wait until these exercises are over,” 
said Raymond, decisively. 

“ He’ll get away from us,” declared Pete, excitedly. 

“ That makes no difference,” said Raymond. 
“ You’ll have to go back in the rear of the hall. 
We can’t allow you to interrupt these exercises.” 

By this time the speaker had retired from the stage, 
and Professor Morton, who was officiating as the 
presiding officer, rose to his feet, very red in the face. 

“ I wish the ushers would see that those young men 
who have been disturbing the meeting retire from the 


RAYMOND FINDS HIS STOLEN WATCH 1 55 

aisle,” he said, looking sternly at the flushed and 
angry Dixfills, who, finding that the eyes of the whole 
audience were turned upon them, retired, crestfallen, 
to the rear of the hall. There, while the exercises 
progressed, they stated their grievance against Biffins 
to a number of the students, who gathered about them, 
and who agreed that after the meeting was over a 
court should be organized in a neighboring recitation- 
room, Biffins produced, and the case given a full, fair 
and impartial trial. 

This programme was promptly carried out at the 
close of the exercises; but so large was the crowd of 
students and townspeople who desired to hear the 
proceedings, that it was found necessary to utilize the 
society hall on the first floor as a court-room. 

Charlie Hoyle was elected judge and Hartley Pember 
clerk. A jury was empaneled, consisting of Archer, 
Greyson, Moker, Baxter, Cass, Bodge, May, Dorkins, 
Morse, Perry, Amber and Wing. Ezra Densor was 
selected as counsel for the plaintiffs, and A1 Wiswell 
as attorney for the defence. Raney was elected sheriff, 
and promptly left the room, returning in a few minutes 
with Biffins. 

His appearance with the Imp was greeted with a 
storm of applause, which plainly indicated that the 
sympathies of the spectators were not with the Dixfills. 

This expression of feeling, however, was promptly 
repressed by the presiding justice, who sternly remarked 
that any such demonstration was entirely out of place 


156 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

in a court of justice, and called upon the sheriff to 
preserve order and decorum in the court-room. He 
then stated that in the absence of a formal writ, and 
the lack of time for counsel to prepare one, it would 
be dispensed with, and the trial of the case would 
proceed without further delay. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE TRIAL OF BIFFINS 

Ezra Densor arose and addressed the jury. He said 
that he would make no formal presentation of the case 
of the plaintiffs, as he preferred that the facts should 
appear first in the evidence. He felt sure that Kramp- 
ton honor could be depended upon to deal fairly and 
justly with both parties to the cause in hearing. If it 
should be shown that one of their fellow students had 
been guilty of sharp practice, they certainly were not 
there to condone it. “ I am ready, your Honor,” he 
concluded, “ to proceed with the evidence, and will ask 
Peter and James Dixfill to step forward and be sworn. ,, 
The two witnesses ambled up the aisle, and held up 
their right hands, while Clerk Pember solemnly swore 
them to tell “ the truth, the whole truth, and nothing 
but the truth/’ in the testimony they should give. 

“ I will ask Mr. Peter Dixfill to take the stand,” 
continued Densor. 

“ He’ll do it, if he gets a chance,” said a voice in 
a stage whisper, from the rear of the room. 

The remark called forth a titter of laughter which 
was sternly rebuked by the judge. 

Peter Dixfill grew very red in the face. 

i57 


I58 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ I didn’t come here to be made fun of,” he growled. 

“ Certainly not,” said the judge. “ Mr. Sheriff,” he 
added, “ if there is any further disturbance of that 
kind you will promptly remove the person” — there 
was a sarcastic emphasis on the last word — “ making 
it from the court-room.” 

Dixfill was mollified by this prompt display of 
authority, and took his place behind the small stand 
that had been placed to the right of the judge at the 
end of the front row of chairs for the members of 
the jury. 

“ Now, Mr. Dixfill,” began Densor, in business-like 
tones, “ I wish you would tell the members of the jury 
in your own way just what recently occurred between 
you and Mr. Biffins.” 

The witness was evidently embarrassed. 

“ I hain’t no speaker,” he began, in a scarcely audible 
voice. 

The judge rapped sharply on the table with his 
gavel. 

“ I must insist that this whispering stop,” he said. 
“ It is impossible to hear the witness. Will you please 
speak a little louder, Mr. Dixfill ? ” 

“ I said I hain’t no speaker,” repeated Dixfill, in 
louder tones. 

“ There is no need that you should be,” said Densor, 
encouragingly. “Just tell the story in your own way 
exactly as it happened.” 

“ Well, I seen Biffins in the grocery store yesterday 


THE TRIAL OF BIFFINS 


159 


morning, an’ he asked me didn’t I want to buy a good 
watch. He showed me one that looked pretty good, 
an’ said he’d give me a good trade on it. I told ’im 
I didn’t have no money with me; but if he’d bring it 
up to our house I thought I could trade with ’im. 
This morning he come. He said he’d take ten dollars 
for the watch. I told ’im I didn’t have so much 
money; but I’d trade my watch for it. He looked 
at it and laughed; said he wasn’t in th’ junk business, 
but he’d trade for four dollars t’ boot. We backed 
an’ filled quite a spell — an’ then we traded. I give 
him two dollars t’ boot. The watch I let ’im have 
was open faced and small; but it had solid silver 
cases. He took it an’ went. After he was gone ’bout 
an hour the watch he let me have run down an’ it 
hasn’t went since.” 

A titter of amusement went round the room at 
this announcement; but it was promptly and sternly 
repressed by the judge. 

“ I took it to Dicksville an’ the jeweller there said 
it was plated cases, with works tinkered up out o’ two 
old watches. He said ten cents would be a high price 
for it,” continued Dixfill. 

At this statement the judge’s gavel became power- 
less, and the audience laughed heartily, to Dixfill’s very 
evident discomfiture. 

“ I went back home an’ told my brother,” he con- 
tinued, “ an’ me an’ him started out gunnin’ for Biffins. 
We found ’im in his shirt sleeves in his sittin’-room 


i6o 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


packin’ up his trunk. He was as smooth as grease; 
asked us to sit down. I told him I was goin’ t’ have 
my watch back. He said it was in th’ bedroom an’ 
he’d get it. He went in an’ after we’d waited a spell 
an’ he didn’t show up, we went in there an’ found he’d 
opened th’ back door into th’ hall an’ cleared out. We 
went over to th’ hall an’ found him by th’ door; but 
he skipped up th’ aisle onto th’ stage an’ we lost ’im. 
That’s all there is about it.” 

“ Have you the watch you got of Biffins ? ” asked 
Densor. 

“ Yes, here it is,” replied Dixfill, producing a large 
and gaudily figured timepiece from his pocket. 

“ Please let the members of the jury inspect it.” 

Dixfill passed the watch to Foreman Archer. From 
him it was handed to the other members of the jury 
who examined it, in turn, with critical gravity. It 
was then returned to Dixfill. 

“ I think that’s all,” said Densor. 

“ One moment,” interposed Wiswell. “ You saw 
the watch you now have before you traded with Biffins 
for it, did you not? ” 

“ Yes, he showed it to me in th’ store.” 

“ And you thought it was a good one ? ” 

“ It looked like it.” 

" You come to the village every day, don’t you?” 

“ ’Most every day.” 

“ You and your brother were here this morning, were 
you not ? ” 


THE TRIAL OF BIFFINS 


161 


“ Yes.” 

“ Before you saw Biffins ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Why didn’t you call on him at his room and make 
your trade there instead of asking him to walk away 
out to your house ? ” 

“ Why — er — I guess we thought we could talk it 
over better at home.” 

“ You thought his watch was more valuable than 
yours ? ” 

“ I don’t know ’bout that ? ” 

“ Well, you wouldn’t have given him boot if you 
hadn’t, would you ? ” 

“ It seemed t’ be.” 

“ You thought if you could get him away from the 
older students here you and your brother could cheat 
him better, didn’t you ? ” 

“ He did the cheatin’.” 

“You would have cheated him, wouldn’t you, if 
that watch you have had had the solid silver cases 
you supposed it had ? ” 

Dixfill hesitated. 

“ It would have been a good trade for us, I guess,” 
he said, lamely. 

“ Did Biffins tell you the cases were silver ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Did he take it out of his pocket, and give it to 
you and your brother to examine? ” 

“ Yes.” 


1 62 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ And you looked it over carefully ? ” 

“Yes; but we don’t pretend to be experts.” 

“ After you had looked it over you were willing to 
pay him boot?” 

“ I give him two dollars.” 

“ How old are you, Mr. Dixfill ? ” 

< Twenty-two.” 

“ And your brother ? ” 

“ Nineteen.” 

“ That will do,” said Wiswell, and the witness took 
his seat. 

Jim Dixfill was then called to the stand, but his 
testimony merely corroborated that of his brother. 

“We rest here, your Honor,” said Densor, at its 
conclusion. 

“ Mr. Biffins may take the stand,” said Wiswell. 

Biffins made his way to the front. 

“ Now tell the jury your story in your own way.” 

“ There isn’t much to tell,” said Biffins. “ Pete has 
told it about as it was. It was a fair and square trade, 
and they were the most anxious to make it. I told 
them nothing about the watch that wasn’t true, and 
gave them all the chance they wanted to examine it. 
I went way up to their house and let them do the 
business there. I did everything they wanted me to.” 

“ How old are you? ” 

“ Fifteen.” 

“ Did the Dixfills make any threats when they came 
to your room the first of the evening? ” 


THE TRIAL OF BIFFINS 1 63 

“ Yes. Pete told me he’d lick me within an inch 
of my life, if I didn’t give up his watch.” 

“ And what answer did you make to that ? ” 

“ I told him I’d go and get it.” 

“ Did you?” 

“ Yes,” said Biffins, with a grin. “ I have it here.” 

“ You didn’t promise to bring it to him after you 
got it, did you ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ And as a matter of fact, you didn’t ? ” 

“ No,” returned Biffins, with a gleam of mischief 
in his eyes. “ I had a pressing call about that time 
to a place on the stage in the Chapel hall.” 

A roar of laughter greeted this announcement. 

“ I have no further questions,” declared Wiswell. 

“ Well, I have some,” said Densor. “ You say you 
have the watch you got of the Dixfills with you ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Will you please show it to the jury? ” 

Biffins slowly removed the watch from his pocket 
and handed it to Archer, from whom it passed, in turn, 
to the other members of the panel. 

Raymond clutched Ned’s arm with a vise-like grip 
as he again recognized it as the one he had lost. 

“Go slow, old man; it’s in our hands; don’t spoil 
the fun now,” whispered Ned, warningly. 

“ Where did you get the watch you swapped with 
the Dixfills ? ” demanded Densor. 

“ I object to that question,” interposed Wiswell. 


164 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ The question is excluded,” ruled the court. 

“ Is it a fact that you fixed it up out of two old 
ones? ” 

“ I object to that question,” again interposed Wis- 
well. 

“ The witness may answer,” said the judge. 

“ Yes,” admitted Biffins. 

“You knew that the cases were plated, did you?” 

“ I never represented them to be anything else.” 

“You knew also that the watch you received from 
the Dixfills had cases of solid silver ? ” 

“ I did not.” 

“ Why were you so ready to swap, then ? ” 

“ I was willing to take my chances,” replied the 
Imp, while another ripple of laughter ran through the 
audience. 

“ Didn’t you deceive the Dixfills when you left them 
in your sitting-room under the pretence of getting the 
watch they desired, and then sneaked out of the bed- 
room door into the hallway?” 

“ I am responsible for what I say,” declared Biffins, 
“ but not for what the Dixfills may think I meant. 
I told them I’d get the watch, and I did. I did not 
tell them I would bring it to them, and I didn’t.” 

“ You can deceive people as much by what you 
imply as by what you say,” observed Densor, sternly. 
“ That will do.” And Biffins took his seat. 

“ We rest here, your Honor,” said Wiswell. 

Raymond rose in his seat, and caught the judge’s 


THE TRIAL OF BIFFINS 1 65 

eye. “Your Honor/' he said. “I ask permission to 
address the court.” 

There was a rustle of excitement among the audience 
at this interruption, and all eyes were fixed eagerly 
upon Raymond. 

“ Really, Mr. Benson,” said the judge, “ your request 
is somewhat extraordinary. Does what you desire to 
say have a bearing upon the pending case ? ” 

“ I think, your Honor, it has a very important one.” 

“ You may state it then.” 

“ It is known to some of those present — although 
not to all,” continued Raymond, “ that some weeks 
ago my watch was stolen, during the night, from my 
bedroom.” 

A breathless silence pervaded the room at this 
announcement, and every eye was turned expectantly 
towards the speaker. 

“ It was a small timepiece which my mother gave 
me,” continued Raymond, “ and which she had before 
she was married. I would know it among a thousand. 
The watch which has been shown here this evening by 
Mr. Biffins is the same one that was taken from me.” 

A flutter of excitement ran through the audience at 
this unexpected statement, and ominous looks were cast 
upon the Dixfills who, with white faces, had risen to 
their feet and were staring at Raymond in open- 
mouthed amazement. 

“ I didn't take it,” gasped Pete, as they sank back 
in their seats in utter bewilderment. 


l66 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ You will have a chance to explain that, Mr. Dix- 
fill,” said the judge. “ Gentlemen, the statement of 
Mr. Benson puts an entirely new face on this trial. 
Our time is limited, and we will for purposes of trial 
consider the Dixfill brothers under indictment. Mr. 
Wiswell will officiate as county attorney, and Mr. 
Densor will act as counsel for the defence.” 

“ Mr. Peter Dixfill will take the stand again,” 
announced Densor. “ Now,” he continued, when his 
client was in position, “ will you state to the jury just 
how you came in possession of the watch which Mr. 
Biffins has exhibited here this evening ? ” 

“ I was going over t’ Dicksville on the stage one 
mornin’,” said Pete, in a shaking voice, “ and Dick 
Crutchon was along with us. He was on his way 
out West somewheres. Goin’ over he told me he was 
hard up, an’ wanted me t’ buy his watch, so I took it 
an’ give him five dollars for it. That’s how I came 
by it.” 

Dick Crutchon! At the mention of his name, Ray- 
mond and Ned looked at each other with the light of 
conviction shining in their eyes. They understood now 
the reason for Crutchon’s call upon them, and the real 
meaning of Professor McCleery when he had expressed 
the opinion that the stealer of the watch had left town, 
and was beyond reach. 

“ Were there any witnesses to that purchase? ” asked 
Densor, of Dixfill. 

“ Why, yes, seems to me there was some student 


THE TRIAL OF BIFFINS 


167 


along.” He paused and ran his eye eagerly over the 
audience. Suddenly his face lighted up. “ I remem- 
ber, now,” he cried. “ It was Mr. Graves.” 

“ That will do,” said Densor. “ Mr. Graves will 
please come forward and be sworn.” 

“Do you know anything about this matter?” he 
continued, when Graves had taken the stand. 

“ Yes, I can corroborate what Dixfill has said,” 
returned Graves. “ I was on the seat facing him and 
Crutchon when the trade was made. Crutchon tried 
to sell the watch to me first; but I didn’t want it.” 

“ That’s all,” said Densor. 

Wiswell then put Raymond and Ned upon the stand, 
and had them tell the story of the theft. Both of them 
positively identified the watch, which Biffins turned 
over to them for inspection, as the one which had 
been stolen from their bedroom. 

At the close of their testimony, Pete Dixfill rose. 

“ I don’t want nothin’ that don’t rightfully belong 
t’ me,” he said. “ I’ve got my failin’s ; but I hain’t 
no thief. I’m convinced that the watch Dick Crutchon 
sold me honestly belongs t’ Mr. Benson. I can’t very 
well afford to lose five dollars; but all the same he’s 
welcome to his own,” and he sat down amid a storm 
of applause, which became a perfect tumult of enthu- 
siasm when Biffins made his way to where Raymond 
was seated and handed him the watch. 

“ With all my heart,” he said, warmly. “ If I’d 
known it was yours you should have had it before.” 


1 68 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Forgive me, Bif — ” began Raymond, brokenly. 

“ Don’t say another word,” interrupted Biffins, cor- 
dially, “ for I sha’n’t listen to you. There’s nothing 
to forgive.” 

“ Gentlemen of the jury,” said the judge, “ I thank 
you for your attention, but there appears to be nothing 
for you to pass upon. You are therefore excused.” 

“ Your Honor,” said Biffins, standing midway of 
the aisle, “ I wish to say that Mr. Dixfill is entirely 
welcome to the watch he got of me, and I move you 
that Mr. Densor and Mr. Wiswell be made a committee 
to pass the hat in his behalf. I shall be glad to start 
the subscription with the two dollars he paid me for 
boot.” 

These remarks were warmly applauded, and the 
motion was carried with cheers. Densor and Wiswell 
hastened to attend to their duties, and as a result 
announced a subscription of $6.57 — a sum sufficient 
to send the Dixfills away smiling and happy. 

The court then adjourned and the students gathered 
about Raymond to congratulate him upon the recovery 
of his watch. 

The following day the greater part of the students 
took their departure for home, leaving Raymond and 
Ned, who had decided to pass the short vacation at 
Krampton, to talk over the events of the past weeks, 
brush up their studies, become better acquainted with 
the townspeople, and lay plans for the future. 


CHAPTER XIV 


WHY JAMES VEASIE CAME TO KRAMPTON 

The vacation passed quickly. Quite a number of 
the students remained at Krampton during the week, 
and the rigors of the fifth article were so far relaxed, 
that the boys and girls were permitted to join in the 
formation of a vacation organization known as the 
Happy Hour Society, whose meetings, three in number, 
were participated in by both sexes with a spirit that 
partook somewhat of the nature of a friendly rivalry. 

The grand wind-up came Saturday evening, with an 
old-fashioned candy-pull, in the dining-room of the 
Academy Club, Professor Morton and Miss Bunce 
officiating as chaperons. At the close of the evening’s 
festivities the young gentlemen were permitted to 
escort the young ladies to their boarding-places. Pro- 
fessor Morton went home with Miss Bunce. 

Monday night brought loaded stages from Dicks- 
ville, Ashton and Tillville — the three railway stations 
nearest to Krampton. There was the old chorus of 
greetings, the customary interchange of vacation experi- 
ences, and the familiar hustle of the Socii and Literii 
soliciting committees, for the new boys who began 
169 


170 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


their career at Krampton with the opening of this 
spring term. 

Raymond and Ned began to feel like old-timers as 
they mingled with the newcomers, and did their best 
to impress them with the greatness and glory of the 
Social Brotherhood. 

The result of the soliciting was an equal division 
of the new boys between the two societies, although, 
of course, the members of each loyally maintained that 
their own accessions represented by all odds the better 
“ material.” 

Honors were therefore easy at the beginning of the 
second week, and Raymond and Ned were just per- 
mitting themselves to draw full breaths of relief, and 
think somewhat of other matters, when Hartley Pember 
came into their room in the early evening in a state 
of considerable excitement. 

“ WeVe got a chance to beat the Literiis out in 
numbers as well as talent,” he announced, with evident 
elation. “ I tell you, fellows, things are beginning to 
come our way.” 

“ How’s that? ” chorused Raymond and Ned, laying 
aside their books. 

“ Another new fellow came to-day,” announced 
Pember, impressively. “ Wiswell and Morris have got 
into the game and are helping him settle now up in 
Biffins’ old room. I don’t think the Literiis know 
about him yet.” 

“ What’s his name? ” asked Ned, with deep interest. 


WHY JAMES VEAZIE CAME TO KRAMPTON I^I 

“ James Veasie, and I tell you he’s smarter than 
lightning.” 

“ How do you know ? ” demanded Raymond. 

“ Why, I — er — any one can see that,” hesitated 
Pember. “ I wish you could have seen the way he 
threw his coat off and hung it up,” he added, triumph- 
antly. “ I tell you it showed vim.” 

“ What are our chances? ” inquired Ned, anxiously. 

“ I think they’re good ; but I tell you, fellows, we’ve 
all got to take hold and pull. Of course we were lucky 
in having him meet some of our fellows first; that 
counts for a good deal. There’s only one thing that 
worries me a little.” 

“What’s that?” asked Raymond, with eagerness. 

“ Well, you see he’s been attending Penville Acad- 
emy; that’s how he’s able to go into the senior class 
here.” 

Ned gave a whistle of surprise. “ So he’s a senior! ” 
he exclaimed. 

“ He’s certainly big game,” commented Raymond. 

“ He is for a fact,” assented Pember, “ but you see 
Henry Burgess — one of our graduates, and a leading 
Literii — is on the Penville faculty. He’s probably 
loaded him for bear on the society question.” 

“ That would depend, I should say, on whether or 
not he knew he was coming here. I shouldn’t suppose 
he would have cared to advertise the fact that he was 
going to leave Penville for another school — especially 
among the members of its faculty.” 


172 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“That’s so,” coincided Ned. “Besides it would 
make a good deal of difference what Veasie’s relations 
were with Burgess.” 

“ Yes, I’ve thought of all that,” said Pember, “ and 
it won’t pay us to climb any hills before we reach them. 
Of course the Literiis will be after this fellow hot-foot 
as soon as they find out he’s in town. At the present, 
however, he’s with our fellows, and if he doesn’t take 
to A1 Wiswell and Frank Morris he’ll be an exception 
to the rule — that’s all I’ve got to say.” 

“ Oh, he’ll like them,” declared Raymond, confidently. 

“ We want you fellows to meet him, too,” said 
Pember, “ that’s what I came here for.” 

“When?” asked Ned. 

“ Right away. Come up with me now. It’s impor- 
tant for us to get in ahead of the Literiis, you know,” 

Raymond and Ned, with some misgivings as to their 
own “ drawing qualities,” followed Pember up the next 
flight of stairs to the room over that of Wiswell and 
Morris, which was formerly occupied by Biffins. 

They found A1 and Frank, who had just , finished 
helping the stranger cord an old-fashioned bedstead, 
seated with him before the roaring fire which had been 
kindled in the big Franklin stove. 

Veasie was not a large boy; but his movements were 
quick and decisive, and his voice clear and musical. 
His eyes were frank and fearless, his forehead high 
and surmounted by light hair which seemed singularly 
in keeping with a complexion so white as to impart 


WHY JAMES VEAZIE CAME TO KRAMPTON 173 

almost a cast of pallor to his countenance. It was a 
bright, alert face which the newcomer wore, the face 
of a thinker and a scholar; but withal so full of cordial 
good-fellowship that Raymond and Ned were instantly 
drawn to him. 

Veasie greeted them very cordially in response to 
Pember’s introduction. They were soon engaged in 
an animated conversation, and all the boys were deeply 
impressed by the newcomer’s frankness and freedom 
from anything which savored of affectation. 

“ I suppose you fellows will be hearing some reports 
concerning me from Penville,” he said, presently. 
“ Besides, some of you may wonder why I should 
leave there and come here in the midst of my senior 
year. I don’t want to have any misunderstanding 
about it here; so I guess I had better tell you at the 
start. I shouldn’t want any one to think Pd been 
disappointed in love,” he added, with a laugh. 

“ You don’t look like one of that kind,” said 
Wiswell, encouragingly. 

“ It may be from lack of opportunity,” returned 
Veasie. 

“ That won’t be the case here, then,” said Pember, 
reassuringly. 

Veasie laughed good-naturedly. 

“ I shall need your good offices, then,” he remarked. 
“ But to return to Penville. I left there on account 
of a little difference with the faculty. I didn’t know 
but that Burgess, who used to be at Krampton, I 


174 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

believe, might have posted me here. He is entirely 
capable of it.” 

The boys exchanged significant glances. Obviously 
Burgess was not a favorite with the new boy. 

Wiswell cleared his throat. 

“Yes, I knew Burgess when I first came here; but 
not intimately. He was not in my society,” he said, 
carelessly. 

“ He was one of the great and shining lights in the 
Literary Fraternity,” added Morris. 

The faint suspicion of a smile played about the 
corners of Veasie’s mouth; but he forebore to comment. 

“We had a fellow up at Penville who was thoroughly 
good-hearted, but as full of mischief as an egg is full 
of meat. He was no sooner out of one scrape than 
he got into another,” he said. 

“ A good deal like Imp Biffins, I guess — the fellow 
who occupied this room last term,” laughed Pember. 

“ Imp,” repeated Veasie, with a smile. “ Well, that’s 
good. We called our fellow ‘ Young Nick ’ in order 
to distinguish him from the old one. He wasn’t satis- 
fied with his own mischief; but was forever getting 
his fingers into other people’s. There was a green 
fellow drifted in there from the wilds last term, and 
some of the fellows couldn’t resist the opportunity to 
string him a little.” 

“ A fellow like that is always a mark,” observed 
Pember, sagely. 

“ Well, this one was easy, for he had a bump of 


WHY JAMES VEAZIE CAME TO KRAMPTON 175 

self-conceit that was fully as large as his ears. Some 
of the fellows got him to write a letter inviting a young 
lady to go to the assembly with him — that is one of 
the sociables held, by special dispensation of the 
faculty, for the special benefit of the two departments 
of the school.” 

“ We have them here,” explained Wiswell, “ only 
we call them levees.” 

Veasie nodded. “ Some of the fellows took the 
letter and pretended to mail it,” he continued. “ Then 
one of them, who could write a fine hand, got some 
dainty-looking note paper, scented it up with perfumery, 
and prepared a beautiful note of acceptance. I never 
saw a fellow so tickled in my life as was Peebles — 
that was the fellow’s name — when he fished it out of 
the post-office, one evening. He threw out his chest 
like a prize-fighter, and the stride with which he 
strutted down the street would have landed him a 
winner in a walking match. Now the house where 
the young lady, whose company he supposed he had 
secured, made her school home was presided over by 
our lady principal — a tall, thin-faced maiden lady of 
uncertain years and somewhat acidulous disposition. 
You may imagine that she was a trifle dazed when 
Peebles showed up on assembly night and called for 
Miss Peters — that was the girl’s name. She assured 
him that there must be some mistake, that she was 
positive Miss Peters had accepted the invitation of 
Mr. Daniels more than a fortnight before, and, more- 


176 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

over, that the young lady in question had been gone 
to the assembly with him more than half an hour.” 

“ It would look as if the name of Mr. Peebles were 
Dennis about that time,” said Ned. 

“ That’s what it was — only he didn’t have sense 
enough to know it,” returned Veasie. “ He stormed 
around, like the ringmaster at a circus, and finally 
returned to his room fully convinced that he had been 
made the victim of a deep, dark plot. For some days 
after that he went about with an air of mystery, and 
stealthy observation, that would have done credit to a 
Sherlock Holmes. Up to that point Young Nick had 
not been guilty of any complicity in the affair. He 
would have been wise if he had kept out of it; but he 
simply couldn’t resist the temptation to have a finger 
in the pie. So he sat down and wrote a letter to 
Peebles. It was in his finest hand, and purported to 
be from the lady principal. It was an abject apology, 
assuring Peebles that she had been guilty of a terrible 
blunder on the night of the assembly; that she had 
mistaken him for Nixon — a fellow he resembled about 
as much as he did Daniel Webster — that he was in 
fact the real choice of Miss Peters, who was feeling 
very badly about the matter, and finally that if he would 
call on that young lady at two o’clock the following 
Saturday afternoon all would be explained. I was 
making up some Latin to the lady principal the next 
Saturday afternoon. Her room was a front one just 
across the hall from the reception-room, and it was 


WHY JAMES VEAZIE CAME TO KRAMPTON 1 77 

her custom to answer the door-bell and receive the 
young gentlemen callers in person. She almost had 
a fainting spell when Peebles called for Miss Peters. 

Why, she isn’t here. She’s gone out riding with 
a lady friend,” she said. 

“ ‘ But you told me to call on her here at two o’clock 
this afternoon,’ persisted Peebles, indignantly. 

“ ‘ I told you to call on her? where? when? ’ gasped 
the old lady. ‘ Really, Mr. Peebles, I trust you have 
not been drinking. You talk very strangely.’ 

“ ‘ Do you mean to say that you didn’t write me an 
apology for your part in my disappointment on the 
night of the assembly, and invite me to call on Miss 
Peters here this afternoon ? ’ demanded Peebles, in 
tones of amazement. 

“ The lady principal looked at him aghast. 

“ ‘ Mr. Peebles ! ’ she exclaimed, in tones that 
sounded like the beating of hailstones on a window- 
pane. ‘ Your talk is quite incomprehensible, not to 
say incoherent. Do I understand you to claim that 
you received a letter from me ? ’ 

“ ‘ Certainly,’ returned Peebles, with an air of dis- 
gust. 

“ ‘ But I never wrote you in my life, sir.’ 

“ ‘ Well, I have your letter all the same in your 
own handwriting,’ persisted Peebles, doggedly. 

“ I perceived that light was beginning to dawn on 
the old girl’s mind. I could see her very plainly from 
where I sat, through the partially open door leading 


178 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

into the hallway. She hesitated a moment and then 
turned back into her room. ‘ We will call this suf- 
ficient, Mr. Veasie,’ she said. ‘ Come in here, please, 
Mr. Peebles. I want you to sit down and tell me all 
about this matter. I presume you have this alleged 
letter of mine ? ’ 

“ ‘ Both of them are at my room.' 

“ ‘ Both of them ? ’ echoed the lady principal in utter 
astonishment. 

“‘Yes/ says Peebles. ‘Yours and Miss Peters’s/ 

“ ‘ Ah, indeed ! So Miss Peters wrote you also, did 
she?’ 

“ ‘ Why, yes — a note accepting my invitation to the 
assembly.’ 

“ You may just believe, fellows, that I didn’t wait 
to hear any more. I felt sure that Young Nick was 
tied up in the matter somewhere, and I knew that if 
the faculty got hold of those letters the teacher of 
writing would have had no trouble in determining the 
author of each of them. It would have been bad 
business for them, especially Young Nick, who was 
already in shady standing with the faculty. I lost no 
time in getting over to his room and putting him onto 
the situation. He affected indifference, but I was 
scarcely in my room when I saw him in rubber boots 
striding by a short cut across the field in the direction 
of the house where Peebles roomed. That evening he 
came to my room, swore me to secrecy, and told me 
the whole story. He said that after I left him he 


WHY JAMES VEAZIE CAME TO KRAMPTON 1 79 

made his way to Peebles’s room with his coat-tails 
flying out behind. There was no one there and the 
door was unlocked. He found the letters he was after 
in the tray of Peebles’s trunk. When he was returning 
with them across the field he saw Peebles making his 
way home along the sidewalk, but too busily absorbed 
in his own reflections to notice Nick, or any one else. 
It was a close shave, for the lady principal had sent 
him for the letters.” 

He paused reflectively. 

“ It’s a strange thing,” he added, presently, “ that 
although it was a school holiday, and Young Nick 
secured those letters in broad daylight, no one noticed 
him, either going or coming.” 

“How do you account for it?” asked Raymond. 

“ I can’t — except that it happened during library 
hours, when there chanced to be no one on the street. 
Of course it created considerable commotion among the 
faculty. Burgess, who never seemed to like me very 
well, at once connected me with the matter. He came 
and charged me with taking the letters. I was pretty 
hot and denied it, with more emphasis perhaps than 
was strictly necessary. Then he charged me with 
knowing who did take them, and I admitted it. He 
demanded that I should tell him who it was. I told 
him that what I knew about it had been revealed to 
me in confidence and under a pledge of secrecy. I 
assured him that whatever faults I might have I was 
not a liar; that I had no respect for a man or boy 


i8o 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


who would be guilty of falsehood, which is the distin- 
guishing mark of cowardice. Moreover, I told him 
that I didn’t think much of a man who would try to 
get another one to lie. At that he got very red in 
the face, and remarked that no one was under any 
moral obligation to keep a promise he should never 
have made. Then he left me. The fall term closed 
a few days later, and as I was leaving for home he 
handed me a note which was an announcement from 
the faculty that if I expected to return to the Academy 
the next term I must come prepared to tell all I knew 
about the authorship of the forged letters. I made 
a clean breast of the whole matter to father, and while 
he thought I should have avoided any confidences from 
Young Nick, he declared that he would not have me 
disregard my word in that or any other matter. After 
thinking it all over, I decided to come here to Kramp- 
ton. The winter term at Penville commenced three 
weeks ago, and the day before I left for here I received 
a letter from Burgess saying that, upon further con- 
sideration of my case, the faculty had decided to allow 
me to return to school without further insistence upon 
my testimony regarding the forged letters. I haven’t 
taken the trouble, however, to answer it, and I very 
much doubt if I shall.” 

“ Perhaps he never brought the matter before the 
faculty at all,” suggested Ned. 

“ Possibly. I think, however, that he did — with 
his own version of the matter. I understand that 


WHY JAMES VEAZIE CAME TO KRAMPTON l8l 

students are allowed to confront all accusers here at 
Krampton. That’s one thing that made me come 
here.” 

“ I don’t think you made any mistake,” asserted 
Wiswell, in a tone of conviction. 

“ I certainly feel that way,” returned Veasie, pleas- 
antly. 

Raymond held out his hand and closed it warmly 
on the newcomer’s. “ I admire you for the stand you 
took regarding your word,” he said, earnestly. 

“ Thank you,” returned Veasie, with evident pleasure. 

Pember indulged a short laugh. 

“ Benson’s been in the same box here,” he said. 
“ He knows how it is himself.” 

Veasie looked at Raymond with a new interest. 

“ Oh, have you, indeed ? ” he asked, eagerly. 

“ Not exactly the same,” returned Raymond, with 
a smile. “ The faculty asked me to reveal something 
that had been told me under a pledge of secrecy. I 
refused, and told them plainly my reason for so doing. 
As a result they did not press the matter further; 
merely accepting my statement that I had personally 
nothing to do with the affair under investigation.” 

“ It seems to me that’s the only fair way to treat a 
member of the school,” said Veasie. “ It’s bad enough 
to ask a fellow to be a telltale, without insisting on 
his breaking his word. Personally I should not comply 
in either case.” 

Soon after the boys bade Veasie good-by, with a 


182 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

cordial invitation for him to be neighborly, and went 
to their rooms well satisfied that the newcomer was 
headed for the Sociis. 

This feeling proved to be correct, for although the 
Literiis, who did not learn of his arrival until the 
following morning, made desperate efforts to secure 
him, they were unavailing, and the following Friday 
evening he joined his fortunes with the Social Brother- 
hood, in whose affairs his genial personality, and 
marked powers as a speaker and writer, soon won 
him a conspicuous and honorable place. 


CHAPTER XV 


A SATURDAY NIGHT WITH DENSOR 

“ Hello, boys ! Had my net out for you the whole 
past week,” was Sandy Greyson’s smiling salutation 
as he met Raymond and Ned on the way to recitation 
soon after the opening of the spring term. 

“We surrender,” laughed Ned. 

“ There’s a matter I’ve wanted to see you about,” 
continued Sandy, in a more serious tone. “ I suppose 
you know Densor is working his way through. Quite 
a number of the fellows are doing it in part, of course ; 
but he is wholly dependent upon his own efforts. I 
imagine it’s pinched him pretty hard at times; but he 
puts a cheerful face on it. It’s his way, you know. 
I noticed the other day that his boots are all worn out. 
His toes were out in the snow. You know his feet 
are so large that he has to have his boots made to order. 
Con Cargill, the shoemaker, has his measure, and I 
thought it would be a good thing if a few of us chipped 
in and got him a new pair. Con will make them for 
four dollars.” * 

Raymond and Ned cheerfully contributed half a 
dollar apiece to the good cause. 

A week or two later Raymond was going to his 
183 


184 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

room in Porter Hall, when Densor met and stopped 
him on the front steps. 

“ I want to thank you, Benson,” he said, with feeling, 
“ for the share you had in providing these.” 

He glanced down as he spoke and Raymond per- 
ceived, for the first time, that he was wearing a new 
pair of boots. 

He choked a little, and then added, steadily, “ There 
was a time, Benson — and not so very long ago — 
when I wouldn’t have accepted a service like this, 
however kindly meant. When I enlisted in God’s 
service, however, I forced myself to put away false 
pride, and to thankfully accept His benefactions in 
whatever form they might come to me. I have trusted 
wholly in Him, and, though the way has seemed dark 
at times, He has not forsaken me. I know that He 
will see me through. I thank Him every night for the 
friends He has raised up for me.” 

Raymond was plainly embarrassed. 

“ I think you are indebted to Greyson in this matter,” 
he said. “ He was the prime mover in it. It was merely 
a pleasure for the rest of us to follow him in our small 
way.” 

“ God prompted him,” returned Densor, with con- 
viction, “ and it was He who inspired the rest of you 
to help. I felt that He would provide me with boots.” 

“ Why ? ” asked Raymond, wonderingly. 

“ Because I asked Him for them in prayer,” returned 
Densor, quietly. 


A SATURDAY NIGHT WITH DENSOR 1 85 

“ Does He give you everything you pray for ? ” 
inquired Raymond, doubtfully. 

“ If He thinks it best for me to have it,” returned 
Densor. 

He was silent for a moment. 

“ How powerless we are to fathom the depths, or 
conceive the scope of God’s infinite mercy,” he cried, 
with passionate vehemence. “ There are no human 
standards by which we may measure the Almighty, 
Benson. His judgments are unsearchable, and His 
ways past finding out.” 

He paused and looked Raymond full in the eye. 

“ Do you believe in God ? ” he asked, abruptly. 

Raymond flushed. “ I trust I am no heathen,” he 
responded. 

“ I mean are you a Christian ? ” pursued Densor. 

“ It depends somewhat upon your definition of that 
term.” 

“ Have you ever made any public profession of 
faith?” 

“You mean in church or prayer-meeting?” 

“ Yes.” 

“No, I never have.” 

Densor did not reply at once. His head was bent 
slightly forward, and there was a dreamy look in his 
eyes. “ Benson,” he said presently, “ have you ever 
seen a river that has run quietly along its accustomed 
channel for a full year overflow its banks in flood time, 
and go roaring down to the sea, a resistless torrent, 


1 86 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

carrying devastation along its course? Have you ever 
watched a heavy summer shower, when the heavens 
were dark with clouds, when the lightnings illuminated 
the scene in a succession of vivid flashes, and the deep- 
toned thunder, reverberating aw r ay beyond the horizon, 
followed peal on peal with intonations that fairly shook 
the earth ? ” 

Raymond nodded. 

“If you have looked thoughtfully upon any unusual 
convulsion of nature,” continued Densor, “ you must 
certainly have been impressed with the insignificance 
of man, as compared with the majesty of God. He 
holds us in the hollow of His hand, and yet He has 
assured us that the very hairs of our head are num- 
bered. ‘ Like as a father pitieth his children so the 
Lord pitieth them that fear Him.’ ” 

He paused in some embarrassment. 

“ I didn’t intend to preach you a sermon, Benson,” 
he said. “ I only wanted you to know what has sus- 
tained and directed me, in the hope that it might, 
perhaps, carry some message for you. The Psalmist 
has told us that ‘ God will regard the prayers of the 
destitute,’ and I know it is so, for I have proved it. 
I believe, however, that it is necessary for us to go to 
Him in the steadfast faith with which a little child 
would go to a loving and indulgent earthly father.” 

Raymond made no comment, and after a moment’s 
silence Densor asked abruptly: 

“Where are you going Saturday night?” 


A SATURDAY NIGHT WITH DENSOR 1 87 

“ Nowhere in particular.’’ 

“ Come up to the Parlin house and stay with me.” 

“ What about Ned?” 

“ I’d invite him, too, if I had accommodations for 
more than two. Unfortunately, my housekeeping is 
limited to the kitchen. I suppose you know I am 
taking care of the estate for the General while he and 
his family are South for the winter.” 

“ Yes, I heard something about it,” said Raymond. 

“ I have it ! ” cried Densor, with sudden inspiration. 

“ A1 Wiswell is going home over Sunday. Morris 
would be delighted, I know, to have Ned stay with 
him.” 

“ If we can arrange it that way, I shall be glad to 
visit you,” said Raymond, smiling. 

“ With the consent of Professor McCleery, which 
I will undertake to secure for you,” added Densor, 
over his shoulder, as he made his way towards the 
Chapel building. 

The Parlin estate was the best in the village. It 
consisted of a large, square house with mansard roof, 
and a broad piazza extending around three sides of 
it. A large stable and carriage house, constructed in 
the same general style of architecture, stood at the 
end of a gravel driveway a short distance in the rear 
of the dwelling. The chief glory of the “ Parlin 
Mansion ” — as it was commonly called — was in the 
spacious grounds surrounding it — grounds laid out 
with artistic taste, and notable for the many rare plants 


1 88 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

and trees, which, in the summer season, gave them a 
charm that was all their own. A cedar hedge enclosed 
the estate, but it was not intended as a bar to the 
public. The broad driveways, a number of which 
were fringed on either side with beautiful fir trees, 
were always open to the public, for General Parlin was 
a public-spirited man, who found a positive pleasure 
in contributing to the enjoyment of those about him. 

It was snowing when Raymond slowly ploughed his 
way to the kitchen door of the big house on Saturday 
evening. Densor greeted him warmly. 

“ I had almost given you up,” he said, as he helped 
him out of his overcoat. 

“ I’m not so easily frightened as all that,” laughed 
Raymond. 

They drew their chairs up close to the fire that 
was roaring in the big cook-stove, and, as Raymond 
extended his hands towards its cheerful warmth, he 
improved the opportunity to inspect the room and its 
appointments. He was forced to admit that Densor 
had made the most of his opportunities. It was a 
large, sunny apartment, whose painted plastering had 
been relieved by a number of prettily-framed pictures. 
A study table stood between the windows, a white iron 
bedstead occupied one corner, two rockers, a heavy 
revolving desk chair, and several plain kitchen chairs, 
completed the outfit. Densor followed Raymond’s eyes 
with a quiet smile. 

“ Taking an inventory?” he asked, good-naturedly. 


A SATURDAY NIGHT WITH DENSOR 189 

“ I was marvelling a little,” confessed Raymond, 
u at the really cosy and comfortable place you have 
made out of this kitchen.” 

“ Well, I had everything to do it with. General 
Parlin fairly insisted that I should select better fur- 
nishings; but I assured him that I should feel much 
better with things that there would be no danger of 
breaking. You’ve no idea how comfortable I’ve been 
here.” 

“ I can imagine you must have been,” said Raymond. 

Densor rose, and walked to an iron sink near the 
stove. “ I get pure spring water here,” he said, turn- 
ing a faucet. “ It comes from a spring near the top 
of the hill behind the house. I’m my own house- 
keeper here. I do it all.” 

“You surely don’t include your washing?” said 
Raymond, with a glance at the immaculately white 
bedspread. 

“Surely,” smiled Densor. “ That is one of my 
opportunities here.” 

“ I think you are very fortunate,” was Raymond’s 
comment. 

“I am,” said Densor, gravely. “You’ve no idea, 
Benson, how good God has been to me. I landed in 
Krampton a year ago, several weeks before the begin- 
ning of the fall term, with only fifty cents in my 
pocket. It was not a very hopeful outlook, judged by 
the world’s standards, now was it ? ” 

Raymond shook his head. 


190 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ I had dedicated my life to God’s work,” resumed 
Densor, “ and I knew He would open the way for me.” 

“ And did He ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ Certainly. If He had not I should not be here 
now. The very next day after my arrival here I 
secured a chance to cut cord-wood for Mr. Fleming, 
the storekeeper, and by the time the term opened I 
had saved sixteen dollars. That enabled me to provide 
my text-books, and have a little start on the expenses 
of the term.” 

“ It looks to me as if Densor deserves some credit 
for that,” observed Raymond, drily. 

“ But God provided the opportunity,” said Densor, 
eagerly. “ It would have been my own fault if I had 
failed to improve it.” 

“ God usually helps them that help themselves,” said 
Raymond. 

“ If they have faith to follow along the way He 
points out,” interposed Densor. “ The Lord abomi- 
nates idleness almost as much as He does misdirected 
zeal.” 

“ A worker wins out almost anywhere,” insisted 
Raymond. 

“ He does if God directs his efforts,” said Densor. 
“ I do not believe he will attain any abiding success 
otherwise.” 

Raymond did not pursue the discussion further. 

“ You surely didn’t get through the term on what 
was left of that sixteen dollars, did you ? ” he asked. 


A SATURDAY NIGHT WITH DENSOR I9I 

“ No, indeed. That was only the beginning of 
God’s mercies. I went to Professor McCleery and 
very frankly told him my circumstances. As a result, 
after the cold weather began, he gave me three week- 
day fires to kindle in the recitation-rooms on the first 
floor of the Chapel building. He also gave me the 
same rooms to sweep out every morning. I got eight 
cents apiece for starting the fires and emptying the 
ashes, and a dollar a week for the sweeping. That 
made $2.44 a week. I got along very well on that. 
I kept the same job through the winter and spring 
terms, and had a chance to fill in for Bronson, who 
rang the Academy bell, and who had a good chance 
to go out teaching. Of course you know that the room 
on the top floor of the Chapel building, where the bell- 
rope comes down, goes with that job, and also free 
tuition.” 

“ No, I didn’t,” confessed Raymond. 

“ It was a great opening for me,” continued Densor, 
“ and carried me nicely through the winter and spring 
terms.” 

“ But what did you do in the summer term ? ” asked 
Raymond. “ There couldn’t have been any fires to 
kindle then.” 

“ God opened the way for me again. I found a 
chance to work on a farm Saturdays, and work enough 
to do in spare hours on the village gardens to carry 
me through the remainder of the school year. The 
first part of the long vacation last summer I worked 


192 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


in a hay-field. After that I went to the beach and 
served as porter in a summer hotel. By the time the 
Academy opened last term I had laid up nearly a 
hundred dollars. I felt pretty well when I started for 
school again; but when I reached Dicksville I found 
that some one had picked my pocket in the crowd at 
Manchester. I remembered that three or four fellows 
jostled against me there, but did not attach any sig- 
nificance to it at the time. All my hard-earned money 
was gone, except a dollar and sixty-two cents in change 
which I happened to have in another pocket.” 

“ That was a shame ! ” exclaimed Raymond, with 
deep sympathy. 

“ I did feel pretty badly about it,” admitted Densor, 
“ but then I reflected that God had his own purposes, 
and went to work to make the best of the situation. 
I got my fires to build again, though Professor 
McCleery told me that they were promised to another 
fellow during the winter and spring terms. I managed 
to get through the term, though I confess that I lived 
closer to the wind than I ever did before in my life.” 
A twinkle came into his eye. “ There were times,” he 
said, “ when if milk had cost more than five cents a 
quart, and Indian meal had gone above two dollars 
and a half a barrel, I should probably have gone 
hungry.” 

“ You don’t mean that, do you ! ” exclaimed Ray- 
mond. 

“ That’s about the size of it,” returned Densor. The 


A SATURDAY NIGHT WITH DENSOR 1 93 

smile faded from his face, and his tone became serious 
again. 

“ The outlook was pretty dark for this winter,” he 
resumed. “ It looked as if I was literally at the end 
of my resources. Even the work I had been doing 
for the Academy was promised to another. I took 
the whole matter to God in prayer, and see what He 
has done for me. General Parlin asked Professor 
McCleery to suggest some student as a caretaker for 
his place, while he and his family were South for the 
winter, and, knowing my circumstances, he recom- 
mended me. You have no idea how kind the General 
was. He told me to use what I wanted of the stores 
in the cellar, and to feel perfectly free to use his library, 
and entertain my friends. There are several barrels of 
pork in the cellar, also potatoes, apples, beets, turnips, 
onions, and cabbages in abundance. There is also a 
big closet full of preserves, but I did not feel like 
making the General’s invitation include them.” 

“ He probably intended it to,” said Raymond. 

“ I think very likely he did ; but I haven’t felt like 
riding a free horse to death. There is a lot of pop- 
corn in traces that hang in the attic, and of course I 
have all the wood I want to burn. There was also 
tea, coffee, sugar, salt, and baking powder enough left 
in the pantry to carry me through, and I have had 
what milk the cow gave — about five quarts a day. 
I have used a quart a day for myself, and sold the rest 
to the neighbors. This is the only source of revenue 


194 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

I have had. You see, however, that I have lived well, 
even if my bill of fare wasn’t very extensive.” 

“Haven’t you bought anything?” asked Raymond. 

“ Scarcely anything. I have had very little money 
to buy with. I don’t know what I should have done 
for clothing if General Parlin hadn’t given me an old 
suit and overcoat. They were in pretty good con- 
dition, and I rather guess they’ll carry me through. 
That was another instance of God’s goodness to me.” 

“ I thought you said it was General Parlin’s,” said 
Raymond. 

Densor shook his head. “ It was the Lord who 
prompted him to do it,” he said. 

“ Admitting that,” said Raymond, “ you should still 
give the General credit for heeding the summons. A 
good many fellows turn a deaf ear to calls of that 
kind.” 

“ That’s true,” admitted Densor. “ I am very grate- 
ful to General Parlin for all his kindness to me, and 
also grateful to God who put it into his heart to be so.” 

“ Your life here has been all work and no play,” 
said Raymond, reflectively. 

“ Perhaps that is what has made me such a dull 
boy,” returned Densor, smiling. “ Of course I have 
had to make some sacrifices,” he added. “ I used to 
like to take part in athletic contests — in fact I had 
always rather play baseball than to eat.” 

“ Are you a ball-player ? ” asked Raymond, with 
enthusiasm. 


A SATURDAY NIGHT WITH DENSOR 


195 


“ I used to be.” 

“ You look as though you might have hit the ball 
hard.” 

Densor laughed. 

“ That was my stronghold,” he said. “ I led my 
team in batting. That’s all past, however.” 

“ You haven’t any scruples about the game, have 
you?” 

“ None whatever; but I haven’t any leisure to give 
to it. God has other uses for my time.” 

Raymond forbore to comment. 

A little later they retired for the night. Densor 
knelt by the bedside and poured out his heart to God 
in prayer with the unaffected directness of a child. 
Raymond felt himself strangely moved by the simple 
faith of his friend, who he felt was quite capable of 
even loftier sacrifices than any he had yet made, should 
he feel that they were called for in the holy name of 
religion. 

There were other students who were active in the 
religious life of the Academy — notably James Wilbur, 
Harry Kennedy and George David, all young men of 
sterling worth, and noble influence. He was convinced, 
however, that no one of them was capable of the degree 
of self-abnegation that was possible to Densor. 

The more Raymond reflected upon the struggles of 
this student the greater was the respect he felt for 
him. He was deeply impressed by the sturdy courage, 
the rugged tenacity of purpose, and the supreme and 


I96 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

abiding faith which had sustained Densor in the face 
of seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Of such mate- 
rial, he reflected, had come for centuries the men and 
women who had advanced the standards of the Chris- 
tian religion into new fields, oftentimes at the expense 
of personal martyrdom. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE OPENING GAME WITH TILLVILLE 

The spring term passed away without any events 
of special interest aside from the regular routine 
work of the Academy — save the public meetings of 
the three societies, each of which called out a large 
attendance. 

Greatly to their surprise, both Raymond and Ned 
were given minor parts in “ The Octoroon,” the Socii 
play, and acquitted themselves most creditably. The 
members of the Anthonia chose as the play for their 
public meeting “ Rebecca’s Triumph,” all the characters 
of which were female. 

It was necessary, however, for some of the boys to 
impersonate female characters, as the stringencies of 
the fifth article forbade the ladies of the school from 
coming to their assistance. Raymond and Ned were 
surprised to see how successfully they did this, with the 
assistance of the Boston costumer who was employed 
for the occasion. Veasie took the leading male part 
in the Socii play, and proved himself a dramatic star 
of the first magnitude. 

There were, of course, the usual levees during the 
term, which Raymond and Ned attended with various 
197 


I98 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

lady partners, neither Miss Winslow nor Miss McCleery 
being in school through the winter and spring. 

They also kept up their baseball practice with Cy 
Devons with unabated ardor. 

Both the boys spent the week of vacation between 
the spring and summer terms at Krampton. The 
Happy Hour Society was revived, and some very 
pleasant times were enjoyed. 

Both Raymond and Ned were glad, however, to 
see the opening of the summer term. The school year 
was beginning to drag a little, and they were looking 
forward with some eagerness to the return home. 

With the breaking up of winter came a very general 
return of the baseball fever. The Krampton students 
could not wait for the snow to melt on the diamond, 
so they turned out in force one Saturday and, with 
the aid of several teams and scrapers, shoveled it up 
and hauled it away. They estimated that they forced 
the season fully ten days in this way. 

The first out-of-door practice drew a large crowd 
of spectators, both from the school and the village, 
who watched the work of the players with critical care, 
and eagerly discussed the prospects of the team. 

The work of Raymond and Ned came in for much 
favorable comment, and the general verdict was that 
they “ would do.” 

Raymond was much gratified to find himself able 
to bother the heavy batsmen of the team, who had hit 
his delivery with such apparent ease at the beginning 


THE OPENING GAME WITH TILLVILLE I99 

of the winter term. He took a special delight during 
the first afternoon’s practice on the Academy ball-field, 
in striking out the heavy hitting Ducky Bliss three 
times in succession, to that player’s very evident disgust 
and annoyance. 

Barring a little tendency to wildness, Raymond was 
showing good form for so early in the season. 

“ Never let a man walk if you can help it,” said 
Devons, at the opening practice with the team. “ I 
would far rather a man would make a base hit than 
reach first base on balls. It demoralizes a team, and 
my observation has been that a very large percentage 
of batsmen who get a life in that way succeed in 
scoring.” 

“ What do you do when they get you in the hole? ” 
asked Raymond. 

“ I throw a straight ball over the center of the plate, 
and depend on my fielders. The chances are always 
more than two to one against the batsman’s hitting it 
safely.” 

Soon after the snow was gone the opening game of 
the season was played at Krampton with the Tillville 
Academy team. The rivalry between the two schools 
had always been strong, and athletic contests between 
their representatives never failed to draw large crowds. 

Raymond was exceedingly anxious to win the open- 
ing game, not only for its effect upon his own standing, 
but even more for the courage and confidence it would 
impart to the whole team. 


200 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


The places on the nine had been provisionally filled 
with Wiswell at first, Cass at second, Baxter at third, 
Pember at short, Greyson in left field, Bliss in center, 
and a new boy named Orville Parker in right. Ray- 
mond and Ned formed the battery. Cy Devons had 
been ordered to report to the Chicago team ; but delayed 
his departure a day or two in order to be present at 
the game. His own practice with Raymond and Ned 
had put him in the pink of condition, and he was 
exceedingly anxious that his young protege should 
make a good showing in his opening performance. 

The big coach had a seat on the bench with the 
Krampton players in order that he might advise Ray- 
mond between the innings on how to work the opposing 
batsmen, some of whom he had seen play, and the rest 
of whom he sized up, on their first appearance at bat, 
with the keenness and precision of a professional 
expert. 

The game opened with Diggins, the captain and 
catcher of the Tillville team, at the bat. He hit the 
first ball pitched on a long, low drive to right field, 
where it was beautifully gathered by Parker on the 
dead run. It was a grand catch, and brought forth 
thunders of applause from the Krampton contingent. 
Chellis, the Tillville short-stop, drew a base on balls, 
by skilfully fouling off several pitches that would 
otherwise have been strikes. 

“ Same old tactics ! ” “ Afraid to hit out ! ” “ Watch 
him, umpire ! ” were some of the disgusted Krampton 


THE OPENING GAME WITH TILLVILLE 


201 


comments on this performance, while the Tillville 
sympathizers, several big coach loads of whom had 
accompanied their nine, improved the opportunity to 
cheer lustily. 

Their triumph was short-lived, however. On the 
next pitched ball Ned caught the Tillville runner in 
his attempt to steal second base. It was a beautiful 
throw and brought the Krampton sympathizers to their 
feet in a tumult of enthusiasm. 

The “ stage fright ” was beginning to leave Ray- 
mond, who gritted his teeth when he realized that he 
had violated most of Devons’ precepts in the manner 
he had handled the first two opposing batsmen. 

He steadied himself with an effort as Jim Bryer, 
the elongated Tillville first baseman, made his way to 
the plate. He looked the tall batsman over with an 
effort at coolness, and almost immediately Devons’ 
advice to work him with a drop and a low in-shoot, 
came to mind. 

He glanced at Ned, who was looking at him, 
bright-eyed, through the wires of his mask. “ Steady, 
old man!” he called. “Take your time.” 

The indecision and uncertainty seemed to fall away 
from Raymond like a cloak, and a feeling of confidence 
took its place. He rubbed the ball carefully, and 
ground his heels deliberately into the soil of the 
pitcher’s box. He could see by the short, quick swing 
of Bryer’s bat, that the tall baseman was getting 
nervous. A moment later a swift in-shoot wound 


202 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


itself around the batsman’s ankles and rested securely 
in Ned’s big mitt, despite the vicious swing which 
Bryer had made at it. 

“ Strike one,” said the umpire, and a gust of applause 
swept the grandstand at the announcement. 

“ Drive ’em right along, old man ! ” called Ned. 
“ Here’s a victim,” he added, as the batsman struck 
vainly at a swift drop. 

“ Strike two,” called the umpire. 

“ Humph ! He’s no phenom ! ” growled Bryer. 

“ No,” replied Ned, with a grin, “ but you’d be, if 
your trousers weren’t so short.” 

Bryer flushed angrily, and the Tillville captain strode 
excitedly down the coach line. “ I object to his chin- 
ning the batsman,” he shouted, fiercely, pointing his 
finger at Ned. 

“ He spoke to me first,” rejoined Ned, with imper- 
turbable good nature. 

“ Play ball ! ” said the umpire, sternly. 

Ned walked slowly into the diamond and handed 
the ball to Raymond. “ We’ve got him on the ragged 
edge,” he said, in a low tone. “ Try that slow one 
on him.” 

Raymond nodded approval. 

“ Whisper gently to me, darling,” sang a student 
from the top of one of the big Tillville coaches stand- 
ing back of the third base line, whereupon his com- 
panions laughed derisively. 

Ned turned towards them good-naturedly and blandly 



“ I’m almost ashamed to look 

Page 203. 


YOU IN TIIE FACE.” 





THE OPENING GAME WITH TILLVILLE 203 

tossed them a kiss — a proceeding which called forth 
many indignant expressions from the Tillville young 
ladies, and a roar of laughter from the Krampton 
students in the grandstand. 

“ Don’t delay the game,” said the umpire, impatiently, 
as Ned resumed his place behind the bat. 

“ All right,” was the response of the Krampton 
catcher. “ Put some steam into it, old man ! He can’t 
hit speed ! ” he called to Raymond, who was, apparently, 
preparing to deliver a swift ball. 

A moment later, after Bryer had swung at it with 
all his strength, the sphere came leisurely across the 
plate and sank into Ned’s waiting mitt. 

The Tillville first baseman dashed his bat upon the 
ground in petulant chagrin. 

“ The batter is out,” announced the umpire, while 
the grandstand rang with applause. 

“ A little ahead of the procession that time,” com- 
mented Ned, as he removed his chest protector. 

“ The game is young yet,” snapped Bryer, as he 
made his way to his position at first base. 

“ I’m almost ashamed to look you in the face,” 
confessed Raymond, as he seated himself beside Devons 
on the Krampton bench. 

“ Why so ? ” asked the big coach, good-humoredly. 

“ There’s no need to ask,” returned Raymond, 
dejectedly. “ Didn’t you see me forget nearly every- 
thing you’ve been telling me the past winter? What 
few brains I haye seemed to be in my heels.” 


204 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ You struck your gait much sooner than I expected/’ 
said Devons. “ I shouldn’t have been surprised if they 
had started off with a score or two. Instead there were 
only three men up. You can’t expect to do any better 
than that.” 

“ Ned and Parker deserve all the credit for that,” 
declared Raymond, with a sigh. “ They saved me.” 

“ Why, I thought you combed that last fellow very 
nicely,” smiled Devons. 

“ I was just getting out of my trance a little,” 
returned Raymond. “ I doubt if I should have got 
him, if Ned hadn’t coached and steadied me.” 

“ That’s what he was there for,” rejoined Devons. 
“ I think you are starting out with good control.” 

“ Why, I let Chellis walk.” 

“ Yes, I know — but you placed the ball very nicely 
in pitching to Bryer. Don’t forget to take lots of time. 
By doing so you will steady the team behind you, have 
better command of the ball yourself, and bother the 
men who face you more than would be the case if you 
came to time with the promptness they desire. There 
is nothing that disconcerts a batsman more than a 
deliberate delivery, especially if he is at all inclined 
to be nervous. You had Bryer dancing a tight rope.” 

Raymond smiled. “ Yes, I could see that,” he said, 
with some return of his old cheerfulness. 

“ The next four fellows up,” continued Devons, 
referring to his score card, “ are Holden, their second 
baseman, Dunfield, their third baseman, and Outfielders 


THE OPENING GAME WITH TILLVILLE 205 

Hedges and Ingram. Holden you will notice bats with 
a dip. I’ve seen him kill a drop; but he couldn’t hit 
an underhand rise safely in a thousand years. Hedges 
is weak on a high in or out-shoot. The other two 
are new men. Take lots of time with them, and note 
carefully the position they take at bat. We’ll know 
more about them after they’ve been up once. Ingram 
is short-armed. You had better feel him with a wide 
out-shoot. Hedges has a wide reach. I am inclined 
to think an in-curve about breast high would bother 
him. Don’t forget your change of pace. Make up 
your mind before you pitch what the batsman would 
like, and then give him something else.” 

The Krampton team started out like winners. Wis- 
well drove a safe one to center. Pember drew a base 
on balls. Cass was out on a fly to Holden. Greyson 
struck out. Dunfield fumbled Ned’s grounder, filling 
the bases. 

A ringing cheer went up from the Krampton students 
as Ducky Bliss came to bat. He had been placed well 
down in the batting order, to give his long drives a 
chance to bring in scores. 

“ A three-bagger, Ducky ! ” “ Line it out, old man ! ” 
“ Drive it to the woods ! ” were some of the enthusiastic 
shouts from the Krampton sympathizers, as he rubbed 
his hands in the dirt, took a firm grip of his bat, and 
faced the pitcher. It was soon evident that Bliss was 
not in his usual form. He hit weakly at a wide out- 
shoot, got a called strike, by letting a good one go by, 


20 6 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


and finally ended ignominiously by striking nearly a 
foot over a swift drop. An inning that had started 
out most promisingly had ended without results. 

For the next four innings neither side scored. Ray- 
mond had fully recovered his composure, and was 
pitching with the coolness of a veteran, while Odlin, 
the tall, wiry pitcher of the Tillville team, was exhibit- 
ing a speed and control that was proving very baffling 
to the Krampton batsmen. 

In the sixth inning Ingram, the first batter up, 
reached first on a low throw by Captain Baxter. 
Pitcher Odlin hit safely to center field, and a moment 
later, Rogers, the left fielder, who had struck out at 
both his previous appearances at bat, electrified the 
Tillville spectators by a beautiful home-run drive to 
deep left field, which cleared the bases. Diggins hit 
to Raymond, and was retired at first. Chellis bunted 
a slow grounder along the third base line, and beat it 
out. On the next pitch he made a dash for second 
base. Ned threw beautifully to catch him, but the 
usually reliable Cass dropped the ball, and the runner 
was safe. He scored shortly after on a two-base hit 
to deep center by First Baseman Bryer. 

“ Hurrah ! ” “ They’re rattled!” “ Got ’em on the 
run! ” roared the Tillville coachers from the side lines. 

It really looked as if this were the case; but at this 
point Raymond succeeded in striking out Holden and 
Dunfield in succession, preventing further scoring, and, 
incidentally, putting an end to some criticism of his 


THE OPENING GAME WITH TILLVILLE 207 

work which was beginning to be heard among the 
students in the Krampton grandstand. 

With the score 4 to o in favor of their opponents, 
the outlook was somewhat dark for the Krampton boys 
when they came to bat in the last half of the inning. 

Raymond was the first player up, and succeeded in 
beating out a short bunt. This was the first time he 
had been on the bases during the game, and his sprint- 
ing abilities called forth many favorable comments from 
the Krampton spectators. A burst of applause greeted 
a fine steal of second base. A moment later Raymond, 
who was playing well off the base, fairly dazed the 
Tillville players by making a quick dash for third, the 
ball having rolled a short distance beyond Pitcher 
Odlin on the return from his catcher. 

Short-stop Chellis gathered the ball and threw swiftly 
to Dunfield. The umpire raced up the third base line 
to watch the play. 

Raymond threw himself forward in a quick slide. 

An exultant cheer broke from the Krampton stu- 
dents, when the dust cleared away, and they saw 
him standing safely on the base. He scored soon after 
on Wiswell’s two-base hit to left center. Pember was 
out on a fly to Rogers in left field. Cass made a single 
over the second baseman’s head, advancing Wiswell to 
third, and stole second on the next pitched ball, Diggins 
making no attempt to throw. Greyson reached first 
on an error by Bryer, filling the bases. 

Shortly after Ned Grover cleared them by a terrific 


208 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


home-run drive over the left fielder’s head. The score 
was tied, and the Krampton spectators fairly hugged 
each other in the exuberance of their joy, while their 
exultant cheers resounded from one end of the village 
to the other. 

Neither side scored in the seventh inning. In the 
last half of the eighth a base on balls to Wiswell, 
followed by safe hits from Pember and Cass, scored 
a run for Krampton, putting it one score ahead. 

Holden, the first player at bat for Tillville, in the 
beginning of the ninth inning, made a safe hit that 
Pember tried in vain to reach. A two-bagger by 
Dunfield advanced him to third base. Ned made a 
beautiful catch of Hedges’ high foul close up against 
the grandstand. Ingram struck out. Odlin followed 
with a fly to Bliss. A sigh of relief went up from 
the Krampton people when they saw the crack out- 
fielder settle under it, and most of them rose to leave 
the grandstand, thinking that the game was over. 

They were doomed to disappointment, however, and 
a groan of dismay went from them when they saw the 
ball bounce from the outstretched hands of Bliss and 
fall to the ground. 

Holden and Dunfield came racing across the plate, 
and the Tillville team was once more in the lead. 
Rogers closed the inning with a fly to Greyson. 

The Krampton players made a desperate attempt 
to overcome this lead in the last half of the inning; 
but without success. Parker, Baxter and Raymond 


THE OPENING GAME WITH TILLVILLE 20g 

went out in order. The game was over, and the score 
stood 6 to 5 in favor of Tillville. The Krampton 
spectators made their way dejectedly from the field, 
while the Tillville visitors cheered themselves hoarse. 

As Raymond passed through the gate Bliss brushed 
by him. They had never spoken to one another since 
their encounter in the dining-room, and now, as he 
caught the outfielder’s eye, he fancied he saw there a 
distinct gleam of triumph. 

“ I did the best I could,” he said, a little later to 
Devons, who was waiting for him at the entrance to 
the dormitory, “ but I did not count on a throw-down 
in my own team,” he added, bitterly. 

“ Don’t talk like that,” said Devons, kindly. “ Your 
work was very creditable, better than I dared hope for. 
All the boys did nicely with the exception of Bliss, 
who appeared to have an off-day. The best of players 
are liable to have them, and a pitcher should be careful 
to avoid criticisms. And now good-by and good luck. 
I leave you in the morning.” 

“ Good-by, Mr. Devons,” said Raymond, with a 
hearty clasp of the coach’s outstretched hand. “ I 
thank you for your kindness to me, and I shall try 
to be governed by your advice. It is needless for me 
to wish you success. That is sure to be yours, any- 
way.” 

“ I don’t know about that,” laughed Devons, as he 
started across the campus, “ baseball is a very uncertain 
game.” 


210 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Raymond went to his room fully determined to make 
no further allusions to his suspicions regarding Bliss. 
Still he could not repress a smile of approval when 
Ned, who was washing up in the bedroom, came to 
the door and blew the suds from his mouth long 
enough to remark that the Krampton center fielder 
might have been all right in his younger days, but it 
was plainly evident that he had since degenerated into 
a Jonah or a frost. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE PASSING OF DUCKY BLISS 

The members of the Krampton baseball team were 
gathered in the hall used in common by the school 
societies as a place of meeting. 

“ I have asked you to come here,” said Captain 
Baxter, when he had rapped them to order, “ at the 
special request of Mr. Bliss. No doubt he will be 
glad to explain his reasons for it.” Having made 
this announcement, the Krampton captain sat down 
with an air of restraint and wiped his face with a 
bandanna handkerchief of pretentious size, which was, 
apparently, a part of his uniform. 

Bliss rose to his feet with a heavy scowl. 

“ It has been a customary thing in most schools 
and colleges that I know of,” he began, in a strained 
voice, “ to give a man fair credit for what he does 
in upholding their athletic interests. A good record 
is allowed to count for something.” 

He paused and looked around at the members of 
the team, but none of them ventured any comment. 

“ I’m not given to boasting,” he continued, “ for 
I’m very well aware that self-praise doesn’t go very 
far. There are times, however, when a plain state- 


211 


212 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


ment of facts seems to be demanded. I think this is 
one of them. This is my third season as a member 
of the Krampton ball team, — while it has been a 
member of the Central Valley League. During two 
of them I have led the league in fielding, and last 
season I led it in both fielding and batting. It was 
certainly not my fault that Tillville landed the pennant. 
I have felt that, having made this record, I was entitled 
to some consideration from my fellow students. Last 
Saturday I was unfortunate in my play against Till- 
ville. I made errors, that all fielders are liable to 
make; but which I have not often been guilty of. No 
one could possibly feel as badly over the outcome as 
I did. I will confess to you that I was unable to get 
to sleep until nearly morning because of them. You 
can imagine, therefore, my utter amazement when I 
found that a report was current among my fellow 
students that I had deliberately thrown away the 
game in order to revenge myself upon our pitcher 
because of a former difference with him. No, no! ” he 
exclaimed, as a note of protest came from several of 
those present. “ It's true. I know all about it. I 
know its source and its inspiration. It comes from 
a new and disturbing element in our midst, and I have 
asked you to come here that I might give you my 
honest opinion of it.” 

He wheeled and looked Raymond full in the face 
with a savage frown. 

“ I say it’s outrageous ; it’s indecent ; it’s cowardly ! ” 


THE PASSING OF DUCKY BLISS 213 

he hissed, between his clenched teeth. He glared a 
moment at Raymond and resumed his seat. 

An ominous restraint rested upon the meeting, and 
for a moment no one replied. Presently Raymond 
rose slowly to his feet. His face was white, and it 
was evident that he controlled himself with an effort. 
Still, when he spoke it was, to all appearances, with 
perfect composure. 

“ It is very evident against whom the strange 
remarks we have just listened to were directed,” he 
said, calmly. “ We were at least relieved from all 
doubt on that score. I wish to say here and now that 
I have never criticised to any student of this Academy 
the playing of the party who has just spoken or any 
other member of our nine. If any one makes that 
charge, directly or indirectly,” he added, looking across 
the aisle at Bliss, “ he is an unmitigated liar.” 

Bliss started to his feet, but Wiswell seized him by 
the collar and pulled him back. 

“ Sit down!” he commanded, sharply. “You’ve 
made ass enough of yourself already.” 

“ He gave me the lie,” cried Bliss, hoarse with 
passion. 

“ He didn’t do anything of the kind,” said Wiswell, 
impatiently. “ He didn’t mention your name.” 

“ Well, he meant me all the same.” 

“ Mr. Chairman,” said Ned, rising to his feet. “ I 
wish to say that I have never heard Mr. Benson pass 
a word of criticism on any one of us. It is one of 


214 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


my failings that I am too outspoken. I have stated 
that Mr. Bliss played below his mark in Saturday’s 
game. That was true; but it would probably have 
been better if I hadn’t said it. If it has caused hard 
feeling I am ready to apologize for it.” 

“ I’m not gunning for apologies,” sneered Bliss, 
rising in his place. “ I’ve been advertised as the 
Benedict Arnold of Krampton baseball simply because 
I chanced to have a little bad luck in one game, and 
because an alleged pitcher allowed his opponents to 
bunch their hits on him. I am satisfied that this 
alleged pitcher inspired the criticism of me. It was 
not necessary for him to say anything. Actions some- 
times speak louder than words, especially when a 
person excels as a poser. All I’ve got to say is that 
either that person or I must leave the team, for I swear 
to you that I will never play another game behind 
him. I am willing to leave it to the other members 
of the team to choose between us,” and turning on 
his heel he abruptly left the room. Raymond rose to 
follow him, but Greyson caught him by the sleeve and 
detained him. 

“ I hope Mr. Benson will remain,” said Captain 
Baxter. 

“ I do not wish to embarrass the members of the 
nine in their action,” said Raymond. 

“ There will be no chance for that,” said Baxter, 
coolly. “ Mr. Bliss is not running the team. His 
demand is preposterous. I shall not entertain it for 


THE PASSING OF DUCKY BLISS 21 5 

a moment. We have merely to consider the matter 
of filling his place.” 

A burst of applause greeted this announcement. 

“ I think we should try to develop a good hitter,” 
said Wiswell. “ Our team is none too strong at the 
bat.” 

“ It isn’t an easy thing to find that kind,” observed 
Pember. 

“ I think I know of one,” said Raymond, quietly. 

“ Who is he ? ” came the question in eager chorus. 

“ Densor.” 

An incredulous smile greeted this announcement. 

“ I never knew he was a ball-player,” said Baxter. 

“ I never did till I stopped with him one night last 
term,” returned Raymond. “ He told me that he used 
to play ball on first base and in the outfield. He said 
he’d rather play than eat, but that he had other uses 
for his time here.” 

“ He’s a powerful fellow,” said Greyson, reflectively. 
“ He ought to be a hard hitter.” 

“ That’s what I remarked to him,” replied Raymond, 
“ and he said batting was always his stronghold ; that 
he led the team he played on in that department.” 

“ He’s so slow and clumsy that one would scarcely 
pick him out for a ball-player,” interposed Cass. 

“ You wouldn’t pick him out for a jumper, either,” 
laughed Pember, “ but we all know that there’s no one 
in school who can hold a candle to him.” 

“ He’s everyone’s gardener just now,” said Parker. 


21 6 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ I imagine we should have some trouble in getting 
him to play.” 

“ He hasn’t any religious scruples against the game, 
has he ? ” asked Baxter, anxiously. 

A shout of laughter greeted this inquiry. 

“ I knew that he had forsworn most of the frivolities 
of life,” explained Baxter. “ He’s a self-made ascetic; 
but I don’t know whether or not baseball would be 
included under his ban.” 

“ I can answer that,” said Raymond. “ He told 
me that he had no scruples against playing the game; 
but that he simply couldn’t afford the time. He’s had 
pretty hard lines to get along here, and, now that the 
Parlins are back from the South, I suppose he needs 
every cent he can scrape.” 

“ I heard that the General made him a present of 
twenty-five dollars,” said Greyson. 

“ That will help out the situation,” commented 
Wiswell. 

“And we might make up a purse for him,” sug- 
gested Pember. 

“ Pm pretty sure he wouldn’t accept it,” said Ray- 
mond. “ He’d rather earn it by taking care of his 
gardens.” 

“ I’ll tell you what, fellows,” cried Wiswell, with 
sudden inspiration. “Let’s make a trade with him 
to help him on his gardens, if he will devote the time 
we save him to baseball.” 

The suggestion met with instant favor, and Ray- 


THE PASSING OF DUCKY BLISS 


217 


mond was appointed a committee of one to carry the 
proposal to Densor. The big fellow demurred a little 
at first, but finally consented. The members of the 
team faithfully maintained their part of the compact, 
with the result that Densor soon developed into a tower 
of strength for the nine, not only meeting the most 
sanguine expectations as a batsman, but showing him- 
self an exceptionally clever outfielder as well. 

Two weeks later, when the Krampton team went 
to Tillville for the return game, he demonstrated that 
he was more than capable of filling the place made 
vacant by the retirement of Bliss. Not only did he 
make several fine running catches in center field; but 
he also contributed two three-baggers and a home run 
as his share in the team’s batting. 

Raymond was in fine form, pitching with a control 
and confidence that was largely lacking in his first 
game. He was finely backed by the other members of 
the team, especially by Ned, who caught grandly and 
threw with a precision that made base stealing impos- 
sible for members of the opposing team. 

The final score stood 10 to 3 in favor of Krampton. 
The victorious team was given an ovation by the mem- 
bers of the Academy upon its return home, greatly to 
the chagrin of Ducky Bliss, who shut himself in his 
room and sullenly refused to take any part whatever 
in the festivities. 

This victory was the beginning of a successful sea- 
son. Neither Dalton Academy, Caswell Preparatory 


2l8 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


School nor the Stewart Academy had as strong teams 
as Tillville, although the Stewart nine was successful 
in winning one of its games from Krampton. This 
and the game dropped to Tillville were the only two 
lost by Krampton during the entire season. 

Ezra Densor led the league in batting, his average 
being nearly fifty points ahead of the record made by 
Bliss the previous season. 

Raymond and Ned who began the season in the 
league as unknown quantities were generally recognized 
at the close as its star battery. 

Not long after the close of the baseball season an 
event occurred which caused considerable commotion 
among the good people of Krampton, and was a source 
of great annoyance to the faculty. 

About a mile and a half from the village, in a cross- 
roads angle, stood an old church, which, as a result 
of dwindling attendance, and dissensions among its 
members, had not been used for religious services in 
a number of years. It was beginning to exhibit the 
decrepitude of age. Its paint was gone, its clapboards 
cracked and warped, and its roof leaky. Inside its 
plastering had tumbled off in large patches, showing 
the old-fashioned lathing of split boards which had 
once held it in place. 

The pews, however, still remained as they were left, 
while an old haircloth sofa, and two communion tables 
continued to hold a place of honor on the platform 
behind the pulpit. 


THE PASSING OF DUCKY BLISS 


219 


Krampton awoke one morning to find that some 
miscreants had removed these furnishings during the 
night and deposited them in the front yard of Elder 
Bradley. The sofa, which rested on top of the tables, 
bore a large placard which was inscribed : “ Donation 
to our pastor.” 

It would seem as if the rascals who were guilty of 
this outrageous piece of mischief, would have been 
satisfied to go no further; but such was not the case. 
Piled neatly about the offering from the old church 
was an array of empty cider barrels, which had been 
purloined for this purpose from the stable basement 
on the Parlin estate. 

Mr. Bradley took the joke good-naturedly, returning 
the cider barrels to General Parlin, and adding the 
sofa and tables, for which there appeared to be no 
claimant, to his household furnishings. 

The faculty, however, were not disposed to pass over 
the matter so lightly. They regarded the invasion of 
the old church, in such a spirit and for such a purpose, 
as an inexcusable act of vandalism. 

Professor McCleery dwelt at some length, in his 
talk at prayers, upon the wickedness and folly of such 
sacrilegious desecration of a house of worship. He 
was terribly in earnest, and it became evident to the 
students that the perpetrators of the outrage would be 
severely dealt with in case they should be discovered. 

“ Cracky ! The old man means business this time ! ” 
exclaimed Pember, as a group of the students gathered 


220 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


about the Chapel door to discuss the affair at the close 
of the services. 

“ I think he was drawing on his imagination a little 
to call it ‘ a house of worship/ ” said Moker, “ when 
every one knows that there hasn’t been a religious 
service held there for the past twenty years.” 

“ That may all be/’ said Wiswell. “ Still, I haven’t 
much doubt but that Professor McCleery will make 
a ‘ horrible example ’ of the fellows concerned in this 
scrape, if he succeeds in locating them.” 

That evening Raymond was surprised to receive a 
call from Professor Morton, who asked for his imme- 
diate attendance upon a faculty meeting. Wondering 
what could be wanted of him, Raymond complied with 
the summons. He found the teachers out in force, 
and the soberness of their faces indicated that some- 
thing of more than ordinary gravity was engaging 
their attention. 

As Raymond took the chair which Professor Morton 
motioned him to, the Principal wheeled abruptly and 
looked him sternly in the face. 

“ Do you recognize this ? ” he demanded, passing 
him a letter. 

Raymond took it and looked at it with evident sur- 
prise. 

“ Certainly,” he answered, promptly. “ It’s a letter 
from my mother.” 

“ Well,” continued the Principal, brusquely, “ what 
have you to say for yourself ? ” 


THE PASSING OF DUCKY DLISS 


221 


“ Why, nothing, except that I’m very glad to get it 
again. I certainly thank you very much for returning 
it to me.” 

Professor McCleery gazed at him in blank astonish- 
ment. 

“ Well, you are certainly a cool one! ” he ejaculated. 
“ I suppose you don’t recall when or where you lost it? ” 

“ I missed it the day after I received it, which was 
about a week ago. I don’t know exactly where I did 
lose it.” 

“ Do you know where it was found ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ It was discovered on the floor of the church that 
was looted last night,” said the Professor, impressively. 
“ What have you to say to that? ” he added, sharply. 

“ Nothing,” replied Raymond, quietly, “ except that 
I did not carry it there ? ” 

“ Who else would make a practice of carrying 
around your private letters?” demanded the Principal, 
impatiently. 

“ I can’t imagine, sir.” 

“ Where were you last night ? ” 

“ In my room.” 

“ Who was with you there ? ” 

“ Densor.” 

“ Densor ? ” repeated the Principal, in a tone of 
incredulity. 

“ Certainly. I think Professor Morton knows some- 
thing about that. He gave him permission to come.” 


222 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


The Principal turned inquiringly to the teacher of 
Greek. 

“ That’s very true,” said Professor Morton. “ The 
circumstance had quite slipped my mind.” 

The Principal looked disconcerted. 

“ Where was your roommate? ” he asked, in a tone 
of uncertainty. 

“ He stayed with Frank Morris. Wiswell was at 
home over night.” 

“ That’s so,” assented the Principal. “ He asked 
me for leave to go.” 

Raymond drew forth the contents of the envelope 
and examined them closely. A look of amazement 
came over his face. He turned to the Principal with 
a new light in his eyes. 

“Did you see what was in this letter, sir?” he 
asked. 

“ No,” replied the Principal. “ I noticed that it was 
postmarked Bangor, and was addressed in a lady’s 
hand. I assumed that it was from your mother.” 

“ So it was, sir,” replied Raymond, “ but perhaps 
you can explain to me how this document came inside 
the envelope.” 

He passed a paper he held in his hand to Professor 
McCleery, who nervously unfolded it, revealing a 
receipted bill for the Academy charges of the spring 
term, made out to Richard K. Bliss. 

It was evident that the discovery quite disconcerted 
the Principal. He passed the bill to the other mem- 


THE PASSING OF DUCKY BLISS 22 3 

bers of the faculty for their inspection, and paced 
excitedly up and down the room. “ This is certainly 
astounding ! ” he exclaimed. “You and Bliss had 
some trouble, I believe, at the beginning of the winter 
term?” he asked, finally, pausing abruptly in front of 
Raymond. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ And again the present term ? ” 

“ Well, he told the members of the nine that either 
he or I would have to leave the team.” 

“ Exactly ! and they let him go. I think I’m begin- 
ning to understand the situation.” 

“ That will do. You may go, Mr. Benson. You 
are fully exonerated, and I will ask you to make no 
mention of the matter, at least for the present.” 

A few days later it was known that Bliss had been 
expelled from the Academy, and had gone away on 
an early morning stage without taking the trouble to 
say good-by to any of his fellow students. 

Raymond later learned, confidentially, from Pro- 
fessor Chapin, with whom he was on terms of personal 
intimacy, that, before leaving Krampton, the former 
center fielder had made a full confession of his part 
in the looting of the old church, and the use he had 
made of Raymond’s letter, which he had found on 
one of the seats in the Greek recitation-room. 

Strangely enough he stoutly refused to reveal the 
names of any of the boys who were implicated in the 
affair with him ; and none of them was ever discovered. 


224 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Soon after this the summer term, and with it the 
school year, drew to a close, and Raymond and Ned 
gladly took their departure for home. 

They had passed a pleasant and profitable year, full 
of varied experiences; and had formed friendships and 
associations that were to be of inestimable value to 
them in after life. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE BEGINNINGS OF FOOTBALL 

“ How are you, boys ! ” 

“ How are you, A1 ! ” 

Raymond and Ned clambered to the ground among 
the shouting, laughing group of boys and girls on top 
of the Dicksville stage to grasp the outstretched hand 
of A1 Wiswell, who stood waiting to welcome them 
in front of the post-office. 

“ Em mighty glad to have you back, fellows/’ he 
said, cordially. “ I tell you it seems good to see you 
again.” 

“ I thought we had a pretty jolly time on the way 
over,” laughed Raymond, “ but I didn’t get fully 
enthused until we caught sight of you.” 

“ We were feeling a little mite lonesome, you know,” 
interposed Ned. 

Wiswell looked a trifle skeptical as he led them a 
short distance away for a confidential chat. 

“ Away, base flatterers ! ” he laughed. “ It certainly 
wasn’t for lack of company.” 

“ But they were not of our house,” explained Ray- 
mond. 

“ Mostly girls and Literiis,” added Ned. 

225 


226 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ I expected that,” said Wiswell. “ Most of our fel- 
lows will come later by way of Ashton and Tillville. 
Were there many new fellows on that stage ? ” 

“ Only six,” said Raymond. 

“ And five of them are already pledged to the Lit- 
eriis,” continued Ned. 

“ There seems to be some mighty good fellows in 
the bunch, too,” sighed Raymond, a little regretfully. 

“ Who is the one they haven’t got ? ” inquired Wis- 
well. 

“ That big, square-shouldered fellow on the back 
seat,” said Ned, in a low voice. 

Wiswell glanced at the stage, from which the boys 
and girls were emerging to greet the students who 
were already on the ground, and who were grouped 
about the lumbering vehicle to give the newcomers a 
vociferous and hearty welcome. 

“ He’s a solidly-built fellow,” he commented, crit- 
ically. “ What’s his name?” 

“ Donald Barlow. The fellows who knew him called 
him Don, for short.” 

Wiswell knitted his brows in evident perplexity. 

“ So there are old friends of his among the new 
fellows, are there ? ” he asked. 

“ I gathered from what was said that one or two 
of them were from the same town,” replied Raymond. 

“ Ah — um,” said Wiswell, thoughtfully, knitting 
his brows, “ that complicates matters. I hope you got 
a string on him.” 


THE BEGINNINGS OF FOOTBALL 


227 


“ We did — the biggest kind of a one,” laughed 
Ned. “ He’s going to stop with Raymond to-night. 
I’m coming in to take care of you.” 

“ That’s right ! Good for you ! ” said Wiswell, rub- 
bing his hands with satisfaction. “ If we don’t land 
him it will certainly not be your fault. Looks to me 
as if he might be an athlete.” 

“ He is,” returned Raymond. “ Plays both football 
and baseball.” 

“ You’ll have to look out for your laurels, Al,” said 
Ned. “ He’s a first baseman.” 

“ I’ll take my chances,” said Wiswell, good-naturedly. 
“ In fact I’ll be reconciled to ’most anything if we can 
only land him in the Sociis. Introduce me,” he added, 
as the newcomer clambered slowly down from his seat. 

“ Mr. Barlow,” said Raymond, stepping to the 
stranger’s side, “ I want to make you acquainted with 
one of the best fellows in the world. Shake hands 
with my friend Mr. Wiswell.” 

“ I am glad to welcome you to Krampton,” said 
Wiswell, heartily. 

“ I’m pleased to meet you,” returned Barlow, cor- 
dially, grasping Wiswell’s outstretched hand with a 
warm clasp. “ I thought I should be like a cat in a 
strange garret ; but I am beginning to feel that, through 
no merit of mine, my lines have been cast in pleasant 
places.” 

“ Have you made any arrangements for the term ? ” 
inquired Wiswell. 


228 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Nothing very definite. I had planned to board at 
the Academy Club; and get a room either in the big 
dormitory — Porter Hall, I believe you call it — or 
else in some private house not too far away.” 

“ How do you think you would like to room with 
me?” asked Wiswell. 

“ Why, are you alone?” 

“ I shall be this term. My roommate is out teach- 
ing. So is the fellow who rooms above Benson and 
Grover. His name is Pember, and he is a prince of 
good fellows. He has no chum yet, and you could 
go in with him at the beginning of the winter term.” 

“ Perhaps he would prefer to select his own room- 
mate.” 

“ And perhaps you would, too,” suggested Ned. 

“Me? No, I have no connections,” protested Bar- 
low. “ I feel I am the one who would have everything 
to gain.” 

“ There would be no trouble so far as Pember is 
concerned,” said Wiswell. “ He’s left the whole matter 
in my hands.” 

“ He’s the short-stop on your nine, isn’t he ? ” 
inquired Barlow, with interest, as they strolled slowly 
across the road and up the broad walk to Porter Hall. 

“How did you know that?” asked Raymond, in 
some surprise. 

Barlow laughed. 

“ I have a better knowledge of you fellows than you 
imagine,” he said. “ You see Pm a baseball crank 


THE BEGINNINGS OF FOOTBALL 229 

of the 33d degree, and I have all of your last summer’s 
scores pasted away in a scrap-book. I was very glad 
to make the acquaintance of your famous battery and 
your first baseman, and I feel that it would be a pleasure 
to know your short-stop. If he’s half as good a fellow 
as he is an infielder it will be a privilege to be associated 
with him.” 

“ You play ball, I believe? ” said Wiswell, in a tone 
of inquiry. 

“ A little,” returned Barlow, modestly, “ but you 
mustn’t rank me in your class. All the experience I 
have had in that direction has been on a country team. 
We were fairly successful in our games, and I think 
had some good material; but of course our oppor- 
tunities for practice were limited.” 

“ What position do you play?” asked Ned. 

“Well, I hardly know what to say. I have been 
all over the lot, outside the pitcher’s box. I haven’t 
played any position with regularity, and, aside from 
a fairly good throwing arm, cannot lay claim to any 
particular skill as a player.” 

“ You look as if you could hit,” said Raymond, with 
a sidelong glance at the newcomer’s broad shoulders 
and full chest. 

“ I have been fairly successful against home pitchers,” 
returned Barlow, modestly, “ but I imagine I should 
make a sorry enough showing if I were up against 
you.” 

“ I’m not so certain aborit that,” returned Raymond, 


230 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


doubtfully. “ I think you would bother me full more 
than I should be able to bother you.’’ 

Barlow laughed. 

“ I think I’d better keep out of the game here, if 
that’s your opinion,” he said. “ You wouldn’t hold it 
long, I fear, after you once had a chance to size me up.” 

“ You play football, I believe,” suggested Wiswell. 

“ Very little. We organized an eleven in our village 
last fall, and played some of the neighboring high 
school teams. I played left end. None of us, how- 
ever, developed into stars.” 

“ We’ve never had a team here,” said Wiswell, 
“ although there are a number of the fellows who have 
played the game in other places. There is considerable 
talk of organizing an eleven this fall, and playing 
Tillville and the other schools in our baseball league. 
All of them, except Krampton and Caswell, had foot- 
ball teams last fall.” 

By this time the boys had reached their rooms, and 
separated to prepare for supper, Barlow remaining 
with Wiswell. 

A little later the stage arrived from Tillville, crowded 
with students. When the bell rang for supper it was 
a happy gathering that kicked its heels under the club 
tables, a good portion of whom were Sociis. Nearly 
every one appeared to be talking at once, and as each 
old student came through the doorway he was greeted 
with a chorus of welcomes, in which were mingled not 
a little good-natured chaffing. 


THE BEGINNINGS OF FOOTBALL 


231 


“ Where have you been all summer, old man ? ” 
asked Sandy Greyson, as he slapped Raymond heartily 
on the shoulder. 

“ Oh, Ned and I have been hunting, farming, and 
attending the summer picnics at Chestnut,” returned 
Raymond. “ And you ? ” 

“ Oh, I’ve been on a fishing trip off the Banks.” 

“ You caught a good coat of tan, at any rate,” 
observed Ned. 

“Yes — and some fish besides,” laughed Sandy. 
“ Do you know — ” 

“ Spare us,” interrupted Wiswell, with mock so- 
lemnity. “ It is too early in the season for fish stories. 
There are a number of the fellows who are loaded with 
them. A little later we’ll organize an Ananias club, 
and give you all a fair chance to try for the belt.” 

“ It’s to be a belt, is it? ” said Sandy. “ Well, that 
means, I suppose, that your coon-hunting yarns are to 
be admitted to the competition.” 

A shout of laughter greeted this home thrust; which 
Wiswell met with imperturbable good nature. 

“ I’m counting on having you in on that when the 
season opens, Sandy,” he said, “ and then where will 
I be?” 

“ How is the coon hunting, any way ? ” asked Moker, 
with very evident interest. 

“ It’s a little early yet, George,” returned Wiswell. 
“ We must wait, you know, until the frost is on the 
pumpkin.” 


232 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Have you got that new dog trained ? ” 

“ Fairly well. Fve spent a good deal of my time 
with her this summer.” 

“Count me in when the time comes,” said Moker. 

“ You may be sure I will,” said Wiswell. 

The talk soon drifted onto more general subjects, 
during which Barlow and the other new boys were 
introduced to the old students, and made to feel very 
much at home. 

At the close of the meal a number of the Sociis and 
some of the newcomers assembled in Wis well’s room 
for a social chat. Raymond and Ned discovered that, 
if the sentiment on the Dicksville stage had run strongly 
in favor of the Literiis, that on the Tillville stage had 
run quite as emphatically in the direction of the Sociis. 
Some strong men among the newcomers had been 
pledged on both sides, and the soliciting committees 
from both societies were in hot pursuit of those who 
had not yet indicated a preference. 

The conference in Wiswell’s room was an informal 
affair, with singing, story telling, and a general dis- 
cussion of athletic and other topics of school interest. 
A spirit of the utmost freedom and good-fellowship 
pervaded the assembly, and when it finally broke up, 
Raymond and Ned went to their room strong in the 
conviction that a good start had been made in securing 
a fair share of the new boys for the Social Brother- 
hood. This view of the situation was strengthened 
later when Wiswell thrust his head through the door 


THE BEGINNINGS OF FOOTBALL 233 

to inform them that Barlow had decided to room with 
him for the present. 

“ Hurrah ! That means he will be a Socii,” declared 
Ned, with enthusiastic conviction, — a prediction that 
speedily came true, Barlow being one of the first of 
the newcomers to identify himself with the Social 
Brotherhood. He was regarded as a “ great catch,” 
and the Sociis found consolation, in his acquisition, for 
the fact that the Literiis came out four ahead of them 
in the total number of new members secured. 

Early in the term a football association was organized, 
and James Veasie, who had played the game two years 
at Penville, was elected captain, with power to select 
the members of the team. A league was formed with 
Dalton, Stewart, Tillville and Caswell, although as all 
the other schools, with the exception of Caswell, had 
instituted the game the previous year, none of the 
Krampton boys was sanguine enough to anticipate a 
very good showing in the season’s play, especially as 
not more than four or five of the big squad that turned 
out each afternoon for practice had ever played the 
game before. It was evident from the start, however, 
that Krampton would be able to present a heavier line 
than any of its opponents, and, as Ned Grover senten- 
tiously remarked, “ Beef counts in football.” 

Raymond and Ned entered heartily into the practice, 
and were soon numbered among the candidates who 
were reasonably sure to make the team. 

Veasie, who played from the first in his old position 


234 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

at quarterback, proved himself a capable and energetic 
captain, while his cool generalship in a game was des- 
tined to play a very important part in the season’s 
showing of his team. Among those who joined the 
practice in the early part of October was Cy Devons, 
the big baseball coach, who had just completed the 
most successful season of his professional career in 
the National League. The big fellow frankly con- 
fessed his ignorance of football in actual play, but 
was quick to learn, and entered into the practice with 
an enthusiasm and vigor that was very helpful in whip- 
ping the raw material at Captain Veasie’s command 
into a semblance of unity and strength. 

“ I like this game,” he remarked to Raymond and 
Ned one afternoon as they were on their way to the 
athletic field. “ There is lots of snap and go in it. 
It affords plenty of opportunity, too, for the use of 
brain as well as brawn. A successful player must both 
think and act quickly. The game is one that affords 
almost every possible test of a player’s quality; his 
courage, endurance, speed, strength, coolness and 
quickness of perception — everything, in fact, that 
goes to make up a good all-round athlete.” 

“ Do you think a baseball training is of any assist- 
ance in playing football ? ” asked Raymond. 

“No, not specially — only as it helps in developing 
a man generally along the lines I have mentioned.” 

“ What do you think our chances are this season? ” 
put in Ned, abruptly. 


THE BEGINNINGS OF FOOTBALL 


235 


Devons looked at him quizzically. 

“ You’re not trying to commit me, are you?” he 
laughed. “ Haven’t got to writing for the newspapers, 
have you ? ” 

“ No, just confidentially between us three.” 

“ Not for publication; but simply as an evidence of 
good faith,” said Raymond, smiling. 

Devons hesitated a moment. 

“ I think we’ve got the best material in the league,” 
he said, slowly; “but whether or not we shall be able 
to develop it sufficiently in one season to play a winning 
game is quite a question. Experience is a big factor 
in any game. Veasie at quarterback is a star of the 
first magnitude — the best man in the league in that 
position without any question. Dutchy Morse has the 
making of a good center. His two hundred and forty 
pounds of weight count for something.” 

“ He’s hard as rocks, too,” broke in Ned, with 
enthusiasm. 

“ And wonderfully quick on his feet for a man of 
his size,” added Raymond. 

“ Yes, those things count for a good deal, of course,” 
admitted Devons. “ I think, myself, he has the making 
of a good player; but as yet he is green and awkward. 
He is not sure in his passing, and is slow in starting.” 

“ But he’s quick and aggressive,” persisted Ned. 

“ Yes, he’s fairly good raw material,” conceded 
Devons, “ but, like the rest of us, he has lots to learn. 
He should be able to break through the opposing line 


236 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

oftener and down the quarterback or block punts. All 
these things, of course, we expect him to attain in time ; 
but he’s a long way from some of them yet.” 

“ Wiswell and Densor should make strong guards,” 
declared Ned, with the positiveness that comes from 
conviction. 

Devons laughed. 

“ Slow ! too slow ! ” was his good-humored comment. 
“ Still, they are powerful fellows, with quick, bright 
minds, and both are sure to come in time.” 

“ How do you think the rest of the team will work 
out ? ” inquired Raymond, a little anxiously. 

Devons looked at him with a gleam of mirth in his 
eyes. 

“Trying to pump me, eh?” he asked. 

“ Why — er — I didn’t know you shared the con- 
fidence of the captain,” replied Raymond, in some con- 
fusion. 

“ Well, I don’t — that is, fully,” admitted Devons. 
“ Still I’ve had experience enough, I think, in Kramp- 
ton athletics to make a reasonably shrewd guess. As 
I feel pretty sure that you will consider what I say as 
strictly confidential, I’m going to tell you. In addition 
to the three men I’ve mentioned, and Captain Veasie 
at quarterback, I think we shall go into the match games 
with Wing and Raney as tackles, Barlow and Grover 
at the ends — ” 

“ Count me out,” interrupted Ned. “ There are half 
a dozen fellows who can play me to a standstill.” 


THE BEGINNINGS OF FOOTBALL 237 

“ You must allow others to judge of that/’ insisted 
Devons. “ I shall stick to my prediction.” 

“ I think he’s right, Ned,” interposed Raymond. 

“ You are predicting what you’d like, rather than 
what you really think, I guess,” protested Ned, although 
he knew that his companions had been perfectly sincere 
in what they said, and was secretly gratified at it. 

“You know better than that, old man,” said Ray- 
mond. “Who next, Cy?” 

“ Well, back of the line Moker is sure to be one 
of the halfbacks. The other is a close race between 
Charlie Hoyle and Ben Dorkins, with the chances * 
little in favor of Charlie.” 

“ And who for fullback ? ” 

“ You.” 

“Me? No; you’re surely mistaken there,” said 
Raymond, with decision. “ I’m too utterly green.” 

“ Well, you have got a good deal to learn,” admitted 
Devons, “ but then you do not differ very much in that 
respect from the rest of our team this season. Veasie, 
Barlow, Wing and Moker are practically all the players 
in our squad who have ever had any experience in 
playing the game.” 

“We shall want you to criticise us just as freely as 
you do in baseball,” said Ned. 

“ I don’t feel capable of doing it,” laughed Devons. 
“ My own knowledge, you see, is mostly theoretical. 
Not having much to occupy my time in November 
during the past few years, I’ve taken in the big games 


238 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

between Harvard and Yale, and most of the leading 
ones in this State. In this way Fve picked up some 
ideas as to how the game should be played; still it 
would be a trifle egotistical, to say the least, for me 
to set myself up as a coach on such a limited capital.” 

“ You are too modest,” said Ned. 

“ I’ve never been accused of it before,” laughed 
Devons. “ I shall be glad at any time to give you 
my best judgment. Still, I don’t mind telling you 
confidentially that before the season is much further 
advanced the Krampton team will have some first-class 
coaching. My friend, Tom Bannock, who was with 
me on the Chicago baseball team this season, is coming 
next week to spend a month with me. He is an old 
football player; was on the Harvard ’Varsity two 
years. Besides that, he is one of the best fellows in 
the world. We are planning to do a little hunting 
on the mountains, and in the intervals shall give our 
exclusive attention to helping develop a good football 
eleven for Krampton.” 

By this time they had reached the athletic field, and 
Raymond and Ned joined in the afternoon’s practice 
with far more sanguine hopes for Krampton success 
in the league series than they had dared to entertain 
before. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE OPENING GAME WITH STEWART 

Events proved that Devons had been a good prophet 
in predicting the ultimate make-up of the Krampton 
football team. His forecast was the outcome of the 
long and spirited competition in the squad practice, 
although the final selection of players was not made 
until the very morning of the opening game with 
Stewart. To such an extent had the positions of the 
players at that time been determined, by the general 
recognition of merit as shown in the practice work, 
that the whole matter had practically narrowed down 
to a choice between Hoyle and Dorkins for the position 
of right halfback. Hoyle was given the place by a 
close margin. The students generally were satisfied 
that the eleven selected by Captain Veasie was the 
strongest that it was possible for the Academy to put 
into the field. 

A week before the opening of the league series, Tom 
Bannock arrived in Krampton and took charge of the 
practice. He showed himself to be indeed the “ prince 
of good fellows ” that Devons had proclaimed him, and 
was soon a warm favorite, not only with the players 
and students, but also with the townspeople as well. 
239 


240 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


It was always one of the pleasing features of the life 
at Krampton Academy that the village people were 
devotedly loyal to the institution and its interests. 

While the advent of the vigorous and enthusiastic 
Tom Bannock served to instil a new dash and spirit 
into the play of the eleven, it also showed the members 
of the team what a vast amount remained for them to 
learn about the game with, unfortunately, only a short 
time in which to acquire it. 

The opening game was played at home with the 
Stewart team. When the Krampton students saw how 
much lighter the visitors were than the members of 
their own eleven, some of them were sanguine enough 
to anticipate a victory. 

As Raymond and Ned were standing in the big 
doorway of their section of Porter Hall a short time 
before the game, a group of the Stewart visitors, boys 
and girls, passed them under the escort of Bill Copen, 
a member of the Middle Class at Krampton. Copen 
was a really good-hearted fellow; but was not over- 
burdened with discretion. He liked very much to hear 
himself talk, especially about his own achievements. 
He was also gifted with a vivid imagination, and some- 
times in his enthusiasm — especially if his listeners 
evinced a real or pretended interest in his stories — 
he was not altogether scrupulous in drawing the line 
between fact and fiction. 

With all his faults, however, Copen was not without 
his virtues. One of these was his intense and vocif- 


THE OPENING GAME WITH STEWART 


24I 


erous loyalty to everything that pertained to Krampton 
Academy. It was evident that, while pointing out the 
various things of interest about the Academy to his 
visitors, he had not neglected the opportunity to enlarge 
upon the powers of the Krampton football eleven. 

“ I tell you, they’re smashers,” Raymond and Ned 
heard him say, as the group came opposite them. 
“ Every man of ’em a crack-a-jack. You people have 
got the experience, I’ll allow; but we have the snap 
and muscle, and say what you will those are the things 
that win games.” 

Glancing back, after he had passed them, he spied 
Raymond and Ned, and immediately announced the 
fact to his companions. “ See those two fellows in the 
doorway back there?” he asked, in a stage whisper 
that was distinctly audible to the objects of his remarks. 
“ That’s Benson and Grover, our baseball battery — 
the same fellows who combed your nine so beautifully 
last summer. Ha! ha!” he laughed, as if the recol- 
lection afforded him both satisfaction and amusement. 

If his companions were nettled by his tactless boast- 
ing, they were too polite to show it, although Raymond 
and Ned heard one of the Stewart boys jokingly retort 
that all the other teams in the league had felt that it 
was time to give poor Krampton a chance. 

One of the young ladies asked a question which 
Raymond and Ned failed to catch; though the answer 
that came in Copen’s high-pitched tones could be heard 
all over the campus. 


242 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Oh, yes, both of them are on the eleven. Grover 
is right end, and Benson is fullback. Just keep your 
eye on them when the game starts, and you’ll see some- 
thing drop. I tell you they are a couple of dicky 
birds.” 

Raymond and his roommate turned away in disgust. 

“ That fellow gives me a pain,” declared Ned, wrath- 
fully. 

“ I certainly hope we shall be able to trot at some- 
where near our advertised speed,” sighed Raymond, a 
little doubtfully. 

For a moment neither spoke. Then half-way up 
the stairs Ned exploded again. 

“ The confounded ass ! I should think he’d know 
enough not to toot that horn of his at such a time.” 

“ It would be a good thing, I think, if the Athletic 
Association were to provide him with a muzzle,” 
acquiesced Raymond. 

“ He’ll tumble into that mouth of his some day, if 
he isn’t careful,” declared Ned, with a frown. 

Raymond opened the door to their room, and turned 
to him with a laugh. “ Smooth out your wrinkles, old 
man,” said he. “ You mustn’t build any mountains 
out of mole-hills.” 

“ That’s right,” agreed Ned, relaxing a little, “ but 
do you know I’ve a good mind to name a fly Copen — - 
and then kill it.” 

“ You’d better kill Copen,” said Raymond. 

“ That’s right,” laughed a good-natured voice in the 


THE OPENING GAME WITH STEWART 243 

doorway. “ Is not the life of a gentle fly worth many 
Copens ? ” 

The boys turned to meet the smiling face of A1 
Wiswell. “ What’s all this row about, anyway ? ” he 
demanded, seating himself in the big rocking-chair. 
“ What’s Copen been doing now ? ” 

Raymond and Ned related the conversation they had 
overheard. 

Wiswell looked annoyed for a moment; then his face 
brightened. 

“ It’s too small to think about, fellows,” he declared. 
“ Copen is a constitutional grasshopper. It’s impos- 
sible to prevent him from chirping a little. I really 
don’t think he could help it if he tried. You may be 
sure, though, that the Stewart people have sized him 
up pretty thoroughly, and won’t make the mistake of 
taking him as the chosen mouthpiece of Krampton 
sentiment.” 

“ Or a living example of its politeness,” added Ray- 
mond. 

“ Most certainly not,” declared Wiswell, “ and now, 
boys,” he continued, rising from his seat and stretching 
himself with a yawn to his full six feet, “ it’s time to 
don our togs in readiness for the fray. Call at my 
room when you’re ready, and I’ll go along with you.” 

Half an hour later, when the teams lined up on the 
field, Copen sat in the midst of his group of Stewart 
students, extolling the merits of the Krampton players. 

So loud and self-assertive had he been, that he had 


244 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


attracted the general attention of the Stewart contin- 
gent, and speedily became a target for the jibes and 
witticisms of those who were not in the immediate 
party. It was very evident, also, that in some way 
a few of them outside of this party had heard of his 
remarks before the game, and were keeping them in 
pickle with a purpose of rubbing them back upon him 
if opportunity afforded. 

Krampton had the kick-off, and in a short time a 
crowd of panting, mud-stained players were forcing 
the ball back and forth across the field, while their 
respective adherents, strained up to an intense excite- 
ment, vigorously encouraged them with individual 
shouts and concerted school cheers. For a time the 
Krampton team appeared to be holding its own, and 
carried the ball well down the field towards Stewart’s 
goal by repeatedly bucking their opponents’ line. At 
the 20-yard line, the Stewart boys made a determined 
stand, and, securing the ball on downs, speedily punted 
it out of danger. Raymond got under the ball, but 
to the surprise of every one he fumbled it. The speedy 
right end of the Stewart team, who had come down 
the field like a flash, fell upon it, and Krampton’s hard- 
earned gains were lost. 

The Stewart men in the grandstand and along the 
side of the field cheered lustily. 

For the first time during the afternoon the vivacious 
Copen lapsed into silence, just when his Stewart com- 
panions were most desirous that he should talk. 


THE OPENING GAME WITH STEWART 245 

“ A beeg tin tollar for your t’orts, Cope,” called a 
jolly-faced Stewartite, from the rear seat of the grand- 
stand, amid a roar of laughter. 

“Was that the invincible Benson?” called another. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad, Mr. Copen, that you told me to 
keep an eye on Mr. Benson,” said one of the Stewart 
girls who sat beside him, with a demure smile. “ You 
told me I’d see something drop. How could you 
know he — ” 

“ Why, how stupid ! ” chimed in another, sweetly, 
as if she had for the first time comprehended. “ You 
meant the ball all the time.” 

A half-suppressed giggle from the seats behind him 
added to Copen’s discomfort. For the first time he 
was beginning to fear that he had been a trifle too 
loud and too positive, in his predictions. 

“ Begorra, Cope, it’s lucky ye had ye laugh before- 
hand, or Oi’m fearin’ ye’d not had it at all,” called 
another Stewart man, in a well simulated brogue, and 
even some of the Krampton students could not resist 
joining — a little ruefully to be sure — in the general 
laugh that followed. 

“ Where are those two dicky birds, Cope? ” shouted 
David Pike, the captain and director of the Stewart 
cheering, who stood facing the grandstand. 

It was evident that Copen’s cheerful complacency 
had vanished. “ Go chase yourself,” he growled, very 
red in the face. 

“ I suah yo, sah, Massa Cope didn’t mean dicky 


246 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

birds at all, sah,” returned another Stewart sympathizer 
in negro dialect. 

“ What, then, did he mean, sir ? ” demanded Pike, 
promptly assuming the role of an interlocutor. 

“Blue jays, sah! blue jays!” was the answer — a 
response which brought forth a roar of laughter from 
the Stewart contingent. 

There was really very little for the Krampton 
students to cheer over that afternoon, although they 
improved every opportunity with vociferous loyalty. 
The Krampton eleven was clearly outgeneraled, and 
the game resulted 18 to o in favor of Stewart. 

“ I’m very thankful it wasn’t any worse,” declared 
Wiswell, as he made his way towards his room at the 
close of the game, in company with Raymond and 
Ned. 

“ I set the ball rolling with my senseless fumble,” 
said Raymond, despondingly. 

“ Nonsense! ” returned Wiswell, impatiently. “ You 
played as well as any of us. The trouble is we haven’t 
learned the game yet.” 

“ I think we got a few valuable pointers on it to-day, 
though,” was Ned’s grim comment. 

“ I’ve no doubt of it ; but I don’t believe either you 
or Raymond expected to win this game.” 

“ Certainly not,” admitted Ned, “ but I didn’t expect 
they’d be able to keep us from scoring entirely.” 

“ Well, I don’t know. It’s a question whether Stew- 
art or Tillville has the stronger eleven this year. We’ve 


THE OPENING GAME WITH STEWART 247 

got better raw material than either of them ; but I don’t 
believe it will be possible to develop it into winning 
form this season.” 

“We shall at least be able to put up a better game 
than we did to-day, I hope,” said Raymond, gloomily. 

“ Cheer up, old boy ! Cheer up ! ” said Wiswell. 
“ This was our first attempt, and, therefore, not sub- 
ject to criticism. I honestly think it’s the poorest game 
our team will ever play.” 

A little later most of the players and a number of 
other students were crowded into Wis well’s room, to 
talk over the game, which was discussed in all its 
phases. 

“ There was one partial recompense for our defeat,” 
declared Hartley Pember. “ Did you see the way 'the 
Stewartites got back on poor old Cope?” 

The hearty laugh that greeted this question made it 
very evident that this feature of the contest had not 
escaped the general observation. 

“ It was the richest thing I’ve seen for many a day,” 
said Harry Archer. “ I thought I’d die laughing. 
The silence was so dense around Cope the last part of 
the game that you could almost cut it with a knife.” 

“ He was still so long,” chimed in Parker, “ that I 
began to fear he had developed lockjaw.” 

“ Nothing like it has been seen before at Krampton 
since Copen came to town,” announced Frank Morris. 

“ Let’s go down to his room and show him our 
appreciation,” suggested Long Bodge. 


248 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Go ahead ! ” “A good idea ! ” “ Wake him up ! ” 
came simultaneously from different members of the 
group. 

“ You lead off, Bodge,” said the grinning Wiswell. 
“ You can keep the straightest face and, as Mark 
Twain says, look the most like an ‘ inspired idiot ’ of 
any man in the crowd.” 

“ Thanks, my lord ! ” said Bodge, with a ceremonious 
bow. “ Your delicate compliment is duly appreciated.” 

“ Lead on,” “ It’s getting late,” “ Let’s get a move,” 
came impatiently from different members of the party. 

“ Attention, company ! ” shouted Bodge, in stentorian 
tones. “ Right face ! In column of twos, march ! ” 

The line of laughing, giggling paraders made its 
way across the campus, and down the village street to 
the small cottage house, where Copen occupied a front 
room.. Here the procession was halted and formed 
in a long line, facing the door. 

“ Three cheers for Copen ! ” shouted Bodge, and they 
were given with vociferous vigor. A moment later 
the object of the demonstration appeared in the door- 
way, arrayed only in shirt and trousers, and looking 
decidedly dazed and mystified. 

Bodge was equal to the emergency. 

“ Mr. Copen,” he said, stepping forward with a 
grandiloquent wave of his hand, and unmindful of the 
but partially suppressed tittering that came from the 
line behind him, “ we have com^ to rejoice with you 
in our great triumph to-day, and to»congratulate you, 



kJ± 


Speech ! Copen ! Copen ! v — Page 249, 




THE OPENING GAME WITH STEWART 249 

sir, I repeat it, to congratulate you, upon the loyal part 
you bore in cheering our team on to victory. You 
labored, sir, under great difficulties. You reminded 
me of ancient Daniel in the lion’s den — and like him 
you did not quail — er — on toast — or otherwise. 
We are proud of you, sir; proud of your superb 
density, your magnificent sanguinity; your pachyder- 
mous cuticle; your splendid appreciation of things that 
would not appear to natures less susceptible.” 

The orator paused a moment, and wiped his brow 
impressively. Smothered coughs, half audible giggles, 
and one or two catcalls came from the boys in the 
line. Copen looked positively dazed. His hair was 
standing on end from the frequency with which he 
had run his fingers through it during Bodge’s remarks, 
in a vain effort to collect his vagrant thoughts. It 
was very evident that he was hopelessly bewildered. 

“ Speech ! Speech ! Copen ! Copen ! ” shouted the 
members of the procession, loudly, in an exuberant 
pretense of enthusiasm. 

“Ah — er — really, boys — er — , beg pardon, gen- 
tlemen. I — er — really don’t know what to say. It 
may be very stupid in me ; but, really, I — er — some- 
how — er — someway — I can’t just account for it, 
got it into my head that Stewart beat.” 

“ Oh ! ” came the long-drawn chorus of expostulation 
from the grinning audience. Copen was plainly rattled. 

“ It was — er — stupid — er — very stupid in me, 
of course,” he said humbly, “ but those — er — Stewart 


250 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


— er — mosquitoes — were annoying me. In fact you 
may say — er — really, broke me all up — er — so to 
speak.” 

“ Certainly,” interposed Bodge, blandly. “ Got the 
teams mixed up a little, did you? A very natural 
mistake, and entirely excusable, Mr. Copen, under the 
circumstances.” 

“ I’m sure — er — really — I beg pardon,” stam- 
mered Copen, a little helplessly. 

“Certainly,” interposed Bodge, magnanimously. 
“ Gentlemen,” he continued, turning to his grinning 
companions, “ you have heard the confession of our 
er-ring brother. In cheering our team on to victory 
to-day he was forced to meet and refute the unthink- 
ing aspersions of a number of Stewartites. This so 
engaged his mind and distracted his attention that he 
actually left the field under the painful impression that 
Stewart had won the game. He has repented, yea, 
bitterly repented. He has frankly confessed his fault. 
He humbly asks your forgiveness. Is it your pleasure, 
gentlemen, that he be pardoned? All those in favor 
will say ‘ yes/ ” 

A chorus of assent came from the crowd. 

“ All those opposed, ‘ no.’ ” 

Again came the same chorus — this time in dissent. 

“ The Chair is somewhat in doubt,” said Bodge, 
solemnly, “ but in accordance with that rule of human- 
ity which gives close decisions to the base runner, I 
hereby declare Mr. Copen pardoned. In view, how- 


THE OPENING GAME WITH STEWART 25 1 

ever, of the astounding and humiliating confession he 
has made to us, we will dispense with the customary 
vote of thanks, and the presentation of the gold watch 
and chain.” 

“ Three cheers for the chairman,” called Wiswell, 
and they were given with a will. The crowd then 
formed in a column of twos and marched, singing and 
laughing, back to the campus, where it broke ranks, 
leaving Copen still standing in the doorway of his 
boarding-place, a living picture of astonishment and 
perplexity. 


CHAPTER XX 


wiswell’s great coon hunt 

The next game in the league series was played with 
Tillville, and again Krampton went down in defeat — 
this time by a score of 24 to o. Inasmuch as Tillville 
had previously defeated Stewart 22 to o, it was felt 
that the showing for Krampton was much better than 
the one made in the opening game. There had been 
a very noticeable improvement in the team play, and 
Coach Bannock was encouraged to believe that his 
labors were beginning to show definite results. 

Raymond was proving very fast on his feet at full- 
back, and his fierce, sure tackling in the game with 
Tillville called forth general admiration. He was also 
showing a gratifying improvement in his punting, and, 
in practice, had done some very creditable drop kicking. 

Ned Grover was also recognized as a very promising 
player, being very fast down the field on kicks, a sure 
tackier, and quite strong enough, when necessary, to 
meet and break up interference. He twice distinguished 
himself in the game with Tillville by getting down the 
field on punts, and downing the runner for a loss. 
He also circled the opposing end for a 45-yard run — 
252 


wiswell's great coon hunt 253 

which was the largest single gain made by Krampton 
during the game. 

The game with Dalton was strongly contested, and 
although Krampton was again defeated by a score of 
12 to 6, the team showed such decided improvement 
in its work, that the whole school was encouraged to 
believe that it would not fail another season to give 
a creditable account of itself. Only one more game 
remained to be played — the one with Caswell. As 
both teams were playing their first season, the contest 
was more equal than any of those that preceded it. 
Krampton went into the contest with a determination 
to win. They fought every inch of the ground with 
stubborn courage and tenacity, pounding away with 
grim vigor at the opposing line, and several times 
circling its ends for substantial gains. The first half, 
however, ended without any scoring on either side. 

Both teams lined up, at the beginning of the second 
half, with sturdy determination that promised a hard- 
fought battle ; and the spectators were not disappointed 
in seeing one. The excitement was soon at fever heat, 
the supporters of both teams cheering on their players 
with such lusty enthusiasm that, for a time, pande- 
monium reigned supreme. Back and forth across the 
field surged the opposing forces, the advantage being, 
apparently, first on one side, and then on the other, 
neither being able to make a decisive gain. 

Only a few moments of play remained when the 
Caswell fullback sent a long, low, twisting punt towards 


254 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


the side line. Moker muffed the ball, but, fortunately 
for Krampton, it bounded almost straight into Ray- 
mond’s arms. The Caswell players massed towards 
him, but, aided by good interference, he eluded them, 
and darted down the field like a flash. Only Caswell’s 
fullback was now in the way. Raymond made straight 
at him without slackening his pace, and then, as the 
nervy little player dived for him, side-stepped, avoiding 
his tackle, and raced away, with a free field, to the 
goal line, amid the deafening, tumultuous cheers of the 
Krampton sympathizers. Veasie kicked a goal from 
the touchdown, and the score stood 6 to o in favor of 
Krampton. 

Caswell made a desperate effort to retrieve its for- 
tunes in the short time that remained to it; but all in 
vain, and the game ended without further scoring. 

The enthusiasm of the Krampton students found 
vent in wild cheers, followed by a break for the grid- 
iron. The players were fairly overwhelmed with con- 
gratulations, and had some difficulty in restraining 
their admirers from carrying them off the field on their 
shoulders. Raymond Benson was the hero of the hour. 
In vain he protested that it was all luck, a mere piece 
of good fortune that chanced to come to him, and that 
the other players were deserving of quite as much 
credit as he was. The students of the Academy were 
entirely willing to accord full credit to all the members 
of the eleven; but they were unanimous in recognizing 
Raymond as the star performer of the game. 


WISWELl/s GREAT COON HUNT 255 

When Raymond and Ned had made their way, with 
some difficulty, to their division of Porter Hall, they 
found A1 Wiswell, sweaty and grimy from the game, 
and still in his football togs, waiting for them in the 
doorway. 

“ Put it there, old man ! ” he cried, extending a big 
hand to Raymond. “ You did yourself proud.” 

Raymond smiled a little wearily. 

“ Let’s not play this game any longer,” he said. 
“ Some of you fellows are trying to spoil me, I guess.” 

Wiswell shook his head. “Not — ” he began. • 

“ There were ten other players,” interrupted Ray- 
mond, “ who did quite as much work as I did ; you 
and Ned know, Al, that it isn’t always the man who 
chances to make the showy play who does the most to 
win the victory. Where would we have been to-day 
if it hadn’t been for the rugged work of our line? ” 

“ Oh, we are not missing this opportunity to throw 
out our chests. Ned will vouch for that,” laughed 
Wiswell, “ but all the same you shot the arrow that 
killed Cock Robin. Isn’t that so, Ned?” 

“ There’s no doubt about it,” responded Ned, who 
always felt a greater pride in his roommate’s achieve- 
ments than he did in his own. 

Wiswell looked them over critically. 

“ I suppose both of you are feeling a bit pegged 
out?” he said, in a tone of inquiry. 

“ Oh, I’ve been a good deal more tired in my life,” 
declared Ned. 


256 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Why do you ask ? ” inquired Raymond. 

“ Well, it’s Saturday, you know — and the frost is 
on the pumpkin, an’ de moon am shinin’ bright.” 

“ What’s all that got to do with the market price of 
shoats ? ” laughed Raymond. 

“Nothing, my boy!” said Wiswell, with an air of 
mystery, “ but it has an important bearing on coons.” 

“Coons?” echoed Raymond and Ned in the same 
breath. 

“ That’s what ! ” said Wiswell. “ My cousin Silas 
Akers from Portland is up at the farm. You will be 
glad to meet him. He is a good fellow, and a fine 
all around athlete; has played baseball and football 
on the Portland High School teams for the past three 
years.” 

“Then he’s graduated, has he?” asked Ned. 

“ No. The course there is four years. I’ve about 
persuaded him to take his last year at Krampton, and 
I rather expect him to be with us next term.” 

“ He won’t be with us, then, to help us out in foot- 
ball another season,” said Raymond, regretfully. 

“ I don’t know about that,” returned Wiswell. 
“ He’s talking of taking a term or two in the com- 
mercial college after he completes his academic course. 
At any rate he will be here to give us a lift in our 
baseball. It will do your heart good to see him line 
the ball across the diamond,” he added, with enthu- 
siasm. “ He certainly has a great throwing arm.” 

“ Where does he play? ” inquired Ned, with interest. 


wiswell’s great coon hunt 


257 


“ He’s been playing at short-stop in Portland. 
People who have watched him there say that he puts 
up a wonderfully fast game for a fellow as heavy. 
He weighs about 180 pounds, and stands a strong six 
feet in his stockings. There isn’t any surplus fat about 
him, however. He’s all bone and muscle.” 

“ Where would you play him if he comes, Captain 
Wiswell ? ” asked Raymond. 

Wiswell held up both hands. 

“ Don’t ! ” he said, deprecatingly. “ I don’t want to 
be burdened with any new titles till the time comes to 
wear them. It’s a little early, perhaps, to definitely 
determine the place for Akers. What should you 
say ? ” 

“ Why not let him take the vacant place at third ? ” 
asked Raymond. “ Pember is a good short-stop, but 
he has never had great success on the bases.” 

Wiswell looked pleased. 

“ That’s exactly what I had in mind,” he said. 
“ How does it strike you, Grover? ” he added, turning 
to Ned. 

“ Just the thing,” returned Ned, with enthusiasm. 
“ I’ve been wondering all the fall what we were going 
to do to plug the hole at third base made by Baxter’s 
graduation. I couldn’t seem to see any very promising 
material among the new men.” 

“ You have forgotten Barlow,” suggested Raymond. 

Ned shook his head emphatically. 

“No, I haven’t,” he said. “ I’ve worked a little 


258 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

with him one or two mornings, and I tell you he’ll 
never do at third base or short field. He handles 
grounders nicely, and is sure-handed on thrown balls; 
but he is too weak on long throws. He would do 
better at second base.” 

“ Just what I’ve thought,” said Wiswell, approvingly. 
“ He could work that quick underhand throw of his 
from there with good effect. I don’t expect him to 
fill the shoes of Billy Cass as a fielder; but they say 
he is a hard, sure hitter, and that should make up for 
the difference. Billy was never a heavy-weight with 
the stick.” 

“ It seems to me,” interposed Raymond, smilingly, 
“ that we have wandered quite a way from the main 
subject. What about the coon hunt? ” 

“ Oh, Si is going to meet us at 8 o’clock with my 
hound, Betty, at the edge of Sam Ricker’s big corn- 
field. We shall work back through the woods from 
there, and should bring up at our place sometime in 
the morning hours. Sandy Greyson and George Moker 
are going with us. What have you for a sporting 
outfit? ” 

“ Nothing,” said Raymond, a little ruefully. 

“ You forget my burglar-killer,” laughed Ned. 

Raymond’s face lighted up. 

“ Ned has a revolver, a 38-calibre, Smith and Wes- 
son,” he explained, in answer to Wiswell’s look of 
puzzled inquiry. 

“ That will do first-rate,” said Wiswell, cordially. 


wiswell’ s great coon hunt 259 

“ Bring it along by all means. Si will have two extra 
shot-guns, and an old Springfield rifle. My younger 
brother is going to harness up after supper and drive 
him over to Ricker’s place. That will arm four out 
of the six — as many as can shoot to advantage at 
any one time.” 

“ Have you a good dog?” asked Ned. 

“ She ought to be. I’ve wasted time enough train- 
ing her. She has one serious fault, though, and I 
can’t break her of it. Every now and then she will 
persist in chasing up a skunk. Aside from that the 
only scent she will take is a coon’s. A rabbit or a 
woodchuck has no charms for her.” 

“ Let us hope that she will confine herself strictly 
to coons to-night,” said Raymond, laughing. 

“ I hope that may be the case,” said Wiswell, “ still, 
I’ve had lots of sport with a skunk before now.” 

After a little more conversation Raymond and Ned 
made their way to their room to change their clothes, 
preparatory for supper. 

Two hours later, arrayed in their oldest suits, they 
were tramping along the hilly country road in company 
with Wiswell, Greyson, and Moker. A stranger meet- 
ing this merry party as it went laughing, shouting and 
singing on its way, in the very buoyancy of youthful 
health and spirits, would never have suspected that four 
of them had that very afternoon engaged in a rough and 
tumble contest that had taxed their physical strength 
and endurance to the utmost. 


26 o 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Arriving at the corn-field they found Akers seated 
on a large boulder awaiting their coming. Wiswell 
at once introduced him to the other members of the 
party, who immediately felt themselves drawn to him. 
Akers was fully six feet tall, straight as an arrow and 
beautifully proportioned. His face was frank and 
open, his voice full and deep, and his laugh contagious 
in its hearty enthusiasm. He swung along with the 
unconscious grace of conscious strength, as the party 
made its way, laughing and chatting, across the edge 
of the corn-field towards the woodland, which loomed 
up, with its deep shadows, in the moonlight at the 
opposite side of the clearing. It was already dusk. 
The new moon was just breaking over the tree-tops, 
and stars were beginning to light up the firmament. 

As the boys reached the outer edge of the field, close 
under the shadows of the forest trees, they stopped, 
with a common impulse, to draw in a good full breath, 
and drink in the beauties of the night. For a moment 
no one spoke ; only the hound’s whining, as she tugged 
impatiently at her leash, broke the brooding silence. 

Presently Wiswell again started the conversation. 
“ It’s a glorious night for it,” he said, as he stooped 
to loose the hound. A moment later the long, sinewy 
dog bounded away in the corn rows, and was speedily 
lost to sight. 

Raymond looked after her with some perplexity. 

“ How will you know if she starts a coon?” he 
asked. 


WISWELL'S GREAT COON HUNT 


26l 


“ Oh, she’ll tell us all about it,” responded Wiswell, 
lightly. 

Almost immediately the statement found confir- 
mation in a succession of short, sharp yelps, coming 
from the corn-field near the edge of the woods. 

“ Come on, fellows ! ” shouted Wiswell. “ We can 
head them,” and he plunged rapidly into the woods, 
followed by the others. The two shot-guns brought 
by Akers had been given to Greyson and Moker, 
while Raymond had been awarded the Springfield rifle. 
Wiswell had resolutely refused to “ draw on the 
armory,” as he laughingly remarked, declaring that 
his only office that night was “ master of the hound.” 
Raymond found his muzzle-loading Springfield rifle — 
a relic of the Civil war — somewhat cumbersome, but 
his football training and knowledge of woodcraft 
enabled him to keep at Wiswell’s heels. He was 
closely followed by Akers and Ned, while Greyson and 
Moker, both of whom were city boys, staggered along 
in the rear. 

Presently Raymond emerged, panting and perspir- 
ing, through a clump of white birch trees upon a large 
rocky ledge, which, he perceived, fell off abruptly on 
the further side. Below, through a screen of alders, 
he caught the silvery gleam of water from a running 
brook, as it reflected back the moonlight. 

The sharp yelp of the dog was close at hand, and 
presently a coon broke from the forest cover, and 
dashed with quick leaps down the embankment in front 


262 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


of them. In a moment Raymond’s rifle was at his 
shoulder; but Wiswell, who stood beside him, laid a 
restraining hand upon his shoulder. 

“ Don’t shoot,” he whispered, “ you’ll hit the dog.” 

Almost immediately the hound made her appearance 
so close behind the coon that, for a fleeting moment, 
both were plainly visible to the excited boys on the 
ledge. 

There was a splash in the water, and an exclamation 
of disgust from Wiswell. 

“ It’s all up ! ” he said. “ We’ve lost him.” 

“ Why ? ” demanded Raymond. 

“ He’s taken to the water. Bess can’t follow him. 
Look,” he added, pointing to the dog, that was run- 
ning back and forth on the banks of the brook, with 
impatient whines, in a vain attempt to find the scent. 

“ It’s no use, old girl,” called Wiswell. “ You 
were not quite quick enough. You’ve lost him.” He 
whistled to the hound, that made her way up on the 
ledge and sat down beside them, panting and dejected. 
Wiswell stroked her head affectionately. “ Cheer up, 
old girl,” he said. “ We’ll have one yet. Do you 
know,” he added, turning to Raymond, “ that there’s 
a good deal of human nature in a dog ? ” 

Raymond was about to respond when the conver- 
sation was interrupted by the appearance of Akers and 
Ned. 

“ Where are the others ? ” demanded Wiswell. 

“ Close behind,” laughed Akers. “ We’ve hung up 


wiswell’s great coon hunt 263 

once or twice to guide them. There they come now.” 
There was a crashing of underbrush behind them, and 
a moment later Moker and Greyson put in an appear- 
ance, and threw themselves, puffing and blowing, upon 
the mossy covering of the ledge. 

“ Great Scott, A1 ! What do you take us for — steam 
engines ? ” gasped Moker. 

“ Or a couple of moose ? ” wheezed Greyson. 

“ Or the drag anchor on the balloon,” added Wis- 
well, laughing. “ Why didn’t you fellows hurry along 
with those shot-guns? Benson and I have just seen 
a coon hump himself by this ledge in the hollow — and 
he wasn’t very far ahead of the dog either.” 

“ Stringing us ? ” asked Moker, incredulously. 

“ No. Honest Injun.” 

“ Why didn’t Benson shoot him with his rifle ? ” 
demanded Greyson. 

“ The dog was too close to him. I tell you they 
went by whizzing. The coon struck the water down 
there and threw the dog off the scent. So we lost 
him.” 

“ I never knew they’d take for water,” said Ned. 

“ Guess you never hunted with a dog,” laughed 
Akers. 

“ No, I never did,” admitted Ned. “ This is my 
first experience.” 

“ Well, they’ll make for water just as fast as they 
can, and once they get there it’s usually good-by coon. 
If the dog can tree them, however, the rest is easy.” 


264 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ I tell you what, fellows,” announced Wiswell, “ it’s 
no use going back to the corn-field as late as this, I 
think. There’s an old log across the brook below us 
a little ways. It makes a good bridge. We’d better 
go over, and climb the ridge on the other side. There 
we can sit down and swap yarns while Bess takes 
another circle.” 

“ How are we going to get down off this confounded 
Acropolis ? ” grumbled Moker. 

“ By a side path, known only to the Athenians,” 
laughed Wiswell. “ Come, noble Greeks.” 

Following Wiswell in single file, the boys made their 
way down the side of the ledge, across the brook, and 
slowly climbed the hardwood ridge that lay beyond. 
Here they stretched themselves at ease on a mossy 
knoll, while the hound, in response to Wiswell’s com- 
mand to “ Hunt ’em up,” dashed away on another 
circle. For a time nothing was heard from her; then 
came a succession of quick, sharp yelps. 

The boys ceased their talking, and listened intently. 

The yelps stopped for a moment, and were followed 
by an angry howl. “ I don’t know what she’s run 
afoul of, but I’ll wager it isn’t a coon,” declared Wis- 
well. 

“ More likely a skunk,” observed Akers. 

“ We’ll see,” said Wiswell. “ She’s coming now.” 

Almost immediately a strong odor came from the 
bushes, and a moment later the hound put in an 
appearance. 


WISWELL ’s GREAT COON HUNT 265 

“ Get out ! Get out ! ” shouted Wiswell, with savage 
emphasis, as the dog bounded towards him. “ Look 
out there, fellows ! Don’t let her rub up against you.” 

The boys jumped to their feet, and dodged behind 
some trees, while the dog, abashed to find herself in 
sudden disgrace, dropped her tail between her legs, and 
slunk disconsolately to the foot of the knoll. 

“ It’s fortunate she’s one of the short-haired breed,” 
laughed Wiswell. “ She’ll work the worst of that out 
in a little while. If she were a Newfoundland, for 
instance, that odor would stay by her the better part 
of a month. Here,” he added, turning, to the dog, 
“ Hunt ’em up there ! Hunt ’em up ! ” 

The hound hurried away, and the boys resumed their 
conversation. 

Presently they were interrupted again by the quick, 
sharp yelps of the dog. These lasted for a short time, 
and were succeeded by a prolonged baying. 

“ Hurrah ! ” shouted Wiswell, exultantly. “ She’s 
treed something this time, sure as fate. Come on, 
fellows ! ” 

The boys, guided by the sound of the dog, made their 
way rapidly through the woods, and soon came to a 
tall hemlock tree, at the foot of which the hound was 
standing guard. 

A shout of triumph broke from the members of the 
party, when they saw their prey closely hugging one 
of the topmost branches near the top of the tree. All 
of them, with the exception of Raymond, opened fire 


266 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


immediately, even Ned and Akers joining in with their 
revolvers. Their game, however, obstinately refused, 
as Moker expressed it, to “ come off its perch.” 

“ What are you holding on for ? ” asked Wiswell, 
turning to Raymond, after the smoke had cleared away. 

Raymond laughed. “ Simply waiting for these fel- 
lows to get through wasting valuable powder and lead,” 
he said. “ Then I’ll bring that coon down for them.” 

“ Hail ! Davy Crockett ! ” cried Moker, ironically. 
“ You needn’t bother to shoot. Just whistle to him.” 

“ Go ahead, Benson,” urged Akers. “ Hit him in 
the eye.” 

Raymond took careful aim at the crouching form 
in the tree-top. There was a loud, almost ear-splitting 
report, and a cheer went up from the watching boys 
as the game dropped from its high perch, and came 
tumbling down through the scraggly branches to the 
ground. 


CHAPTER XXI 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 

“Jerusalem! It's a hedgehog!” Wiswell shouted 
in amazement, as the excited boys closed in upon their 
game. “Hold on, Grover 1 Hold on!” he added 
hastily, as Ned, standing over the quivering little 
animal, was about to give it a shot from his revolver. 
“ It’s all ledge here, and you are too close. You can’t 
tell how a bullet might glance.” 

“ There’s more than a pound of lead in him now,” 
said Greyson, giving the hedgehog a poke with the 
muzzle of his shot-gun. 

“ Julius Caesar was never half as dead,” acquiesced 
Moker. 

“ What’s the matter with Benson ? ” cried Akers, in 
a tone of alarm. 

The boys, whose attention had, hitherto, been wholly 
engrossed by the hedgehog, turned about to see Ray- 
mond rising slowly from the ground, in a dazed and 
bewildered manner. 

“ How’s this ? What’s happened ? ” asked Wiswell, 
solicitously. 

Raymond passed his hand slowly over his face. 

267 


268 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMFTON 


“ I don’t just know yet,” he answered, with puzzled 
uncertainty. “ Did that coon hit me ? ” 

“ It isn’t a coon at all,” explained Akers. “ It’s a 
hedgehog.” 

“ And it didn’t come anywhere near you,” added 
Ned. 

“ I felt as if I’d been toying with the heels of a 
government mule,” declared Raymond. 

“ His rifle kicked ! ” cried Wiswell, with a sudden 
appreciation of the situation, and the boys found imme- 
diate relief from their previous anxiety in a burst of 
laughter. 

Raymond straightened, perceptibly. 

“ Oh, yes,” he said, indignantly. “ No doubt it’s 
very funny.” 

“ Don’t get hot, old man,” said Wiswell, soothingly. 
“ It won’t happen again. I forgot about that old charge. 
It’s a shell father loaded for a fox.” 

“ I should think it was for bear,” groaned Raymond, 
rubbing his right shoulder ruefully — at which his 
companions could not resist another gust of laughter. 

“ I think we shall have to call you bearman here- 
after,” said Moker, cheerfully. 

“ Or the champion high kicker,” supplemented Grey- 
son, with a most exasperating grin, which was plainly 
visible to Raymond in the moonlight. 

Meanwhile the hound, which had promptly closed 
in upon the hedgehog when he struck the ground, 
was running around the body of her victim, stopping 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 


269 

occasionally to bark furiously, and then giving vent 
to low, angry yelps. The boys perceived for the first 
time that a number of sharp quills were projecting 
from her nose. Wiswell promptly called her to him, 
and she waited patiently while he pulled them out. 
“ Naughty old hedgehog! ” he said, soothingly. “ Did 
he use your nose for a pincushion ? ” 

“ I thought this was the well-trained coon hound, 
whose only weakness lay in the direction of skunks,” 
was Raymond’s skeptical comment. 

Wiswell laughed, good-naturedly. 

“ This is merely the exception that proves the rule,” 
he said. “ Bess,” he added, sternly, “ I’m ashamed 
of you. Do you hear me? I’m ashamed of you.” 

The dog’s tail sank dejectedly between her legs, and 
she whined piteously. 

“ She says she’ll never do it again,” said Akers. 
“ Let her go, Al.” 

“ Hunt ’em up ! Hunt ’em up ! ” responded Wis- 
well, and the hound darted away through the woods, 
evidently glad of an opportunity to redeem herself. 

For a time the boys sat about the roots of the 
hemlock discussing the events of the evening. 

“ What are you going to do with the hedgehog, 
Al ? ” asked Greyson. 

“ Leave him here, I guess.” 

“ Isn’t he good to eat ? ” demanded Moker, who 
secretly cherished the conviction that it was really his 
shot which had killed the hedgehog. 


270 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Some people, I believe, consider them a great 
delicacy,” returned Wiswell, “ but, personally, I think 
I should prefer potatoes and fried salt pork.” 

“ You can rarely get one of our professional guides 
or old hunters in the big Maine woods to shoot a 
hedgehog. They have an almost superstitious respect 
for them,” said Ned. 

“ Why is that ? ” asked Wiswell, with interest. 

“ They say it’s the only animal in the big woods 
that a man could kill with a club in case he were lost,” 
replied Ned. “ They also say that there are a number 
of instances where lost lumbermen and river-drivers 
have been saved from great distress, and possibly from 
starvation, by subsisting on hedgehogs.” 

Moker looked relieved. “ Oh, that’s it, is it?” he 
said. “ Well, if he’s good to eat why not build a fire 
right here and roast him ? ” 

“ I guess you’d have to eat him alone, George,” said 
Greyson. 

“ I think you could do it, too, at a pinch,” added 
Raymond, slyly. 

“Rats!” ejaculated Moker, impatiently. “What’s 
the use, fellows, in — ” 

But his remark was interrupted by a succession of 
quick, angry yelps from the hound, which almost imme- 
diately changed into prolonged bays. 

“ Treed him easy this time,” panted Wiswell, joy- 
fully, as he raced along ahead of the procession, with 
Raymond close at his heels. 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 2JI 

“ Let’s hope it’s a coon this time,” said Ned, who 
was following close behind them. 

“ Oh, it’s a coon all right,” returned Wiswell reassur- 
ingly over his shoulder. “ The third time always wins, 
you know.” 

Presently they emerged into a small clearing, in the 
center of which stood a solitary spruce. Around it the 
hound was racing, with upturned head and vibrant 
voice, in a very ecstasy of joy. This time there was 
no mistake about it. Near the top of the tall tree the 
boys saw very clearly, in the moonlight, the silvery 
gleam of a coon’s fur. A shot from Moker’s gun 
brought him down, and he proved to be an exception- 
ally large and plump specimen of his kind. 

“ This will go better than the hedgehog,” said Akers, 
as he held him up triumphantly by the tail for the 
admiring inspection of his companions, and even Moker 
acquiesced in his judgment. 

“ I want you all to come to my house, Wednesday 
evening, and help eat him,” said Wiswell, heartily — 
an invitation which his companions were not slow in 
accepting. 

“ Our luck has turned,” said Greyson, with con- 
viction, and the assertion was soon substantiated by 
the capture of another coon, on the very next circuit 
of the hound. 

Then followed a considerable period of waiting, 
during which the hound made several long circuits 
without starting any game. 


272 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


The first faint streaks of dawn were beginning to 
chase away the shadows, apparently imparting a new 
chill to the atmosphere, when the loud yelps of the 
hound once more announced the starting of game. 
This time the chase proved a long and tiresome one. 
The boys, guided by the sound of the dog, finally came 
out of the woods into an old sheep pasture, whose big 
ledges and closely cropped sward stood out bleak and 
bare in the cold, gray mists of the morning. 

They toiled resolutely up the sharp incline of a tall, 
rock-capped peak, which rose to a considerable height 
in the centre of the clearing. 

About half-way up this elevation, Wiswell who, as 
usual, was in the lead, stopped abruptly and, seating 
himself upon a small boulder, wiped the perspiration 
from his forehead with a bandanna handkerchief of 
pretentious size. 

“ Phew ! ” he gasped. “ This isn’t any fire. Let’s 
get our breath.” 

The boys were nothing loath to follow his example, 
and seated themselves around him with unmistakable 
signs of weariness. 

“ What about the game, Al? ” inquired Ned, a little 
anxiously. 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” was the careless rejoinder. 
“ Bess will hold it there. To tell you the truth, Grover, 
I think it’s a false alarm. I shouldn’t look for a coon 
to make for the open. I expect she’s run a skunk into 
the ledges.” 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 273 

“ Say, Al,” interposed Moker, dejectedly, “ is this 
a hill or a mountain? ” 

“ It’s a little of both. They call it Haycock moun- 
tain; but, strictly, I suppose it’s a hill.” 

“ It would be a mountain all right if we had it down 
in Maine,” declared Raymond. 

“ I’d like to have you fellows climb a real one with 
me,” chuckled Wiswell. “ Coon hunting wouldn’t be 
a circumstance.” 

“ Give us a clear roadway and I’m with you,” said 
Greyson. 

“ Come on, fellows ! ” said Akers, rising and stretch- 
ing himself with a yawn. “ That dog will bark her- 
self to death if we don’t look out.” 

The members of the party promptly resumed their 
climb, and presently came to a projecting stretch of 
flat, shaly ledge near the brow of the hill, in front of 
which the hound was barking furiously. 

“ Stand back, boys ! Don’t get too near ! ” cried 
Wiswell, warningly. 

“No danger!” returned Raymond, with his hand 
to his nose. “ I don’t think there’s any question about 
our game this time.” 

“ I can see him ! ” cried Ned, who had thrown him- 
self face down upon the ground, and was peering under 
the ledge. 

“ Don’t you want my rifle ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ No, thanks.” 

“ Here,” said Moker, shoving his shot-gun into 


274 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

Ned’s hands. “ This is warranted to shoot only at 
one end.” 

A shot from Ned settled the skunk. The hound 
immediately darted forward to drag him out from 
under the ledge, but Wiswell caught her by the collar 
and held her back. 

“ Not so fast, old lady ! ” he exclaimed, as he snapped 
the leash into the ring. 

“ But the game?” protested Moker. 

“ Better stay where it is,” continued Wiswell. 

“ Unless Moker would- like to roast it,” suggested 
Ned, slyly. 

“ Thanks ! ” said Moker. “ I’ve provided myself 
with nobler meat.” 

A short walk down the hillside, across a meadow, 
and over a wooded ridge along an old lumber road, 
brought the party to the county highway. From there 
it was only a short distance to Wiswell’s home, which 
they presently reached. It was a sturdy old farm- 
house, which, with its outbuildings, nestled snugly 
against the rocky hillside in picturesque harmony with 
its rugged surroundings. 

“ The folks are still in bed,” said their host, as he 
let them into the large, old-fashioned kitchen. “ Still, 
I think I can scare up something to eat. I’m hungry 
as a bear, myself, and I guess the rest of you will be 
willing to take a bite just to be sociable.” 

“ Try us and see,” said Moker, grinning. 

The old-fashioned kitchen table, covered with a white 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 275 

oilcloth, was pulled out from beside the wall, against 
which the top turned back to form a chair when it was 
not otherwise in use, and Wiswell presently had it set 
for an early breakfast. “ These are not solid silver; 
but will answer the purpose just as well if we imagine 
they are,” he said, with a smile, as he placed two big 
tin pans in the centre of the table, one filled with rich, 
sweet milk, and the other piled high with twisted 
molasses doughnuts. 

The members of the party set to work with a will, 
and the way this repast vanished would have astonished 
one less familiar than Wiswell with “ hunting appe- 
tites.” 

It seemed to the hungry boys as if they had just 
commenced to get fairly under way when the board 
was as bare as the famous cupboard of old Mother 
Hubbard. 

Wiswell looked at them with mock solemnity, as 
they began to push back their chairs from the table 
preparatory to rising. “I hope you are not going to 
stop with the soup,” he said. 

“ The soup ? ” repeated Moker, inquiringly. 

“ Certainly. This banquet is to be served in courses. 
What you have eaten is simply the consomme. We 
come now to the Kennebec salmon, young Vermont 
turkey, and the prime ribs of roast beef. To save delay 
they will all be served at once ; ” and going over to 
the cook-stove Wiswell threw open the oven door, and 
produced a pot of baked beans, steaming hot and cooked 


276 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


to a turn, which he carefully deposited in the empty 
tin pan that had held the doughnuts. 

“ Gentlemen,” said Greyson, rising in his place, “ I 
move a vote of thanks to Mr. Wiswell for the pleasure 
he has afforded us to-night, and for this — this — 
er — ” 

“ Sumptuous,” prompted Ned. 

“ Thanks ! That’s just the word — this sumptuous 
repast.” 

“ Second the motion,” said Raymond. 

“ All those in favor will please rise,” continued Grey- 
son. “ It is & unanimous vote,” he announced, with 
a stately bow to Wiswell. 

“ Speech ! Speech ! ” came in subdued chorus from 
the boys about the table. 

Wiswell rose to his feet, with an amusing assumption 
of dignity. 

“ My friends and fellow citizens,” he began, with 
a grandiloquent wave of his hand, “ I am profoundly 
grateful for this expression of appreciation and — 
er — ” 

“ Good will,” interposed Moker. 

“ No, friendship. I should like to give voice to the 
sentiments that burn within me, and you may just bet 
I would, too, if I wasn’t afraid of waking the folks 
up-stairs. Allow me to say, however, that this ban- 
quet, gorgeous as it has been, is not a circumstance 
to the coon supper to which you are all invited next 
Wednesday evening.” 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 277 

Wiswell sat down amid the pantomimic applause of 
his companions, who soon after took their leave of him 
and Akers. 

The walk back to Krampton did not seem half as 
long as they had anticipated, now that they had enjoyed 
a hearty meal. They had the events of the night to 
live over again; including their meeting with Akers, 
whom they had unanimously voted to be a royal good 
fellow. 

The village was just beginning, as Moker expressed 
it, “to turn over in bed,” when the boys made their 
way up the shady street, and separated at their various 
rooming places to turn the Sabbath into a very literal 
“ Day of rest.” 

The following Wednesday evening the whole party 
were again assembled at Wiswell’s home to enjoy the 
coon supper. Here their game, nicely roasted, was 
served with an abundance of vegetables, and old- 
fashioned pumpkin pies, such as are to be found only 
in a New England farm home. The gathering was a 
most happy one, and thoroughly enjoyed by all the 
boys present, who entered heart and soul into the spirit 
of the occasion. 

A straw-ride back to Krampton in the big farm 
hay-rack followed the supper, and was all the more 
enjoyable from the fact that it had not been anticipated. 

The fall and winter terms wore away without any 
events of special note. 

Raymond and Ned resumed their baseball practice 


278 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

with Cy Devons, and for a time their work was 
enlivened by the presence and active training of Tom 
Bannock, who lingered in Krampton, at the earnest 
solicitation of Devons, for more than a month after 
the close of the football season. 

There was of course the regular weekly gatherings 
of the literary societies, in whose affairs both Raymond 
and Ned were active participants — especially in the 
debates, in which they took a keen delight, and for 
which they developed, each in his own way, more than 
ordinary aptitude. 

With the beginning of the winter term Silas Akers 
entered the Academy, as a member of the senior class, 
and soon became one of the most popular students at 
Krampton. Both Hartley Pember and Frank Morris, 
who were out during the fall, returned to school at 
the opening of the winter term. Pember was accom- 
panied by a younger brother, which made it impossible 
to carry out the original plan of having Barlow room 
with him. Akers and Barlow therefore went into the 
room over Wiswell and Morris — with the result that 
the division was made up of a group of students who 
were thoroughly congenial to one another, and in 
close and cordial association with whom Raymond and 
Ned were destined to pass some of the happiest hours 
of their lives. 

In midwinter came the “ Public meetings ” of the 
various fraternities, which were red-letter days in the 
life of the Academy. They were also events of 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 279 

special social importance to the village and surrounding 
country. 

Raymond was a member of the executive committee 
in charge of the arrangements for the Socii Public 
meeting; and both he and Ned had prominent parts 
in the play. Their selection for these society honors 
was due, largely, to the excellent training they had 
received from Professor Chapin, under whose able 
tuition they had developed very rapidly in elocutionary 
proficiency. 

Near the close of the winter term came the election 
of “ Address men ” in the societies. These were mem- 
bers of the senior class who, in addition to the regular 
graduating oration on “ Anniversary day,” were privi- 
leged to deliver a special parting address to the mem- 
bers of their respective fraternities who were lined up 
for the occasion facing the stage in one of the main 
aisles — the Sociis on the right, and the Literiis on 
the left. 

Frequently the contests for the position of Address 
man were hotly contested, involving a considerable 
amount of scheming and wire-pulling. It was there- 
fore a high compliment to Wiswell’s personal popu- 
larity, that this honor came to him in the Socii society 
by acclamation. Moker was elected as Address man 
of the Literiis, after a spirited contest, in which he 
won out by a good safe margin, a result which gave 
quite as much satisfaction to the Sociis as to his devoted 
supporters in his own fraternity. Moker’s friends were 


28 o 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


by no means confined to his own society. Indeed many 
of his closest and warmest associations were with mem- 
bers of the Social Brotherhood. 

Impulsive, outspoken, not overburdened with rev- 
erence, but at all times devotedly loyal to his friends, 
he was, like his inseparable friend Wiswell, one of the 
recognized leaders in all departments of school life. 

Of course there were the regular school levees, which 
both boys attended, sometimes with one young lady, 
and sometimes with another, and which, as usual, were 
pleasant and enjoyable occasions. 

Both boys were doing a reasonable amount of work 
and taking fair rank in their studies, and although 
Greek still continued to bother Raymond, who could 
never work up any interest or enthusiasm for it, he 
felt that he was at least making some little progress 
with it. 

“ I’ll drop this like a red-hot poker at the very first 
chance,” he announced to Ned one morning as they 
were puzzling over a perplexing passage in Xenophon’s 
Anabasis. 

“ It isn’t half so bad as mathematics,” asserted Ned, 
stoutly. “ I rather like it myself.” 

Raymond sighed. “ It’s hard accounting for tastes,” 
he said. 

As usual the boys passed their short vacation at 
Krampton; but the revival of the Happy Hour Society 
kept them pleasantly employed, and also afforded sev- 
eral informal social gatherings, where every one had 


WHAT FOLLOWED THE CHASE 28 1 

a good time. Cy Devons also improved the oppor- 
tunity to give them some strenuous battery practice, 
which went far to break up the monotony of what 
would otherwise have proved a dull period of waiting. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 

It was a glorious spring morning, and the warm 
sunshine that was rapidly melting away the few laggard 
snow-drifts was full of the invigorating tonic of hope- 
fulness and good cheer. 

Its effects were noticeable on the students at Kramp- 
ton, who went with smiling faces and elastic steps, to 
and from their recitations, cheerfully whistling or hum- 
ming snatches of popular airs, and cordially greeting 
one another in the very exuberance of good fellowship. 

In front of Porter Hall was a long stretch of dry, 
warm walk, which the heat from the brick walls had 
cleared of snow somewhat earlier than the surrounding 
campus. This had been utilized for a playground, and 
a crowd of students had gathered there on sunshiny 
days, in brief intervals before recitations, to pitch quoits, 
practice broad jumping, and engage in riotous games 
of leap-frog. 

Raymond and Wiswell, who had been sunning them- 
selves in the doorway, and watching one of these noisy 
frolics, turned somewhat reluctantly at the sound of 
the study bell, and made their way slowly up the stair- 
way to their rooms. 


282 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 283 

“ This is almost too good a day to stay indoors," 
sighed Raymond, a little disconsolately. 

“ There isn't elbow-room enough yet," was the cheer- 
ful response. “ Most of our good weather is overhead 
now. It will be three weeks yet before we shall get 
onto the ball-field to do any real team work." 

“ And what shall we do with ourselves in the mean- 
time? " 

Wiswell looked at him keenly. 

“ We might join the ‘ Iron Chain Brotherhood,' " 
he said, with the suspicion of a twinkle in his eye. 

“The Iron Chain Brotherhood?" repeated Ray- 
mond, wonderingly. 

“ Certainly. Is it possible that you've never heard 
of that ancient and honorable organization, dating back 
into the misty past — almost, in fact, to the very dawn 
of civilization itself?" 

“What are you giving me?" said Raymond. 

Wiswell paused with his hand upon the knob of his 
door. 

“ Come in," he said. “ Frank is out this hour, and 
I’ve something very private to tell you." 

Raymond followed him, feeling sure that something 
unusual was in the wind. 

“You know Copen?" continued Wiswell, when the 
door had closed behind them. 

“ I've heard of him once or twice," said Raymond, 
dryly. 

“ Well, he has an idea that he has never been fully 


284 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

appreciated here. Some of us, just to string him a 
little, have been throwing out mysterious hints of a 
great secret society at Krampton, made up of the best 
fellows of the Literiis and Sociis, and forming a link 
in a great brotherhood extending through the prepar- 
atory schools of the whole English-speaking world.” 

“ A pretty large-sized conception,” remarked Ray- 
mond. 

“Yes, but it takes a large thing to fill in the full 
scope of Copen’s active and fertile imagination. You’ve 
no idea how eagerly he snapped up the suggestion. 
Swallowed it, hook, line, and sinker. He’s just crazy 
to join.” 

“ Better let him.” 

“ That’s what we thought,” said Wiswell. “ Moker 
and I talked it all over last evening, and got some of 
the details worked out. Of course you and Ned are 
members. Akers is preparing a working ritual, and 
Bodge will evolve the grip, signs, and passwords. 
Barlow is the master of mechanical contrivances, and 
you are the committee to prepare the oath. We shall 
meet for an evening or two with Akers and Barlow, 
to practice working the degrees, all of which may, by 
special dispensation of the Grand Cyclops, be conferred 
on the same evening.” 

“ What’s the Grand Cyclops ? ” inquired Raymond, 
who was beginning to see vast possibilities for enter- 
tainment in his friend’s project. 

“ He is the distinguished general head of the Iron 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 


285 


Chain Brotherhood. As a special honor to Copen, 
however, we expect to have him with us when that 
important gentleman is initiated.’’ 

“ Al, you’re a genius,” said Raymond, admiringly. 

“ Thanks ! ” laughed Wiswell. “ I take it that you 
approve of the idea.” 

“ I do, most heartily.” 

“ Well, then, let Ned into the inside, and meet with 
us to-morrow — Tuesday evening — at eight o’clock, 
in Akers’s room.” 

“ We’ll be there,” declared Raymond, as he left the 
room to join Ned, who was impatiently awaiting him 
in their room across the way. 

As Raymond had anticipated, Ned enthusiastically 
endorsed the plan and purpose of the Iron Chain 
Brotherhood. 

The following evening found both boys in Akers’s 
room, in company with a gathering of students suffi- 
ciently large to indicate that the Iron Chain Brother- 
hood was making substantial progress. 

Wiswell called the meeting to order. 

“We are exceedingly honored, brothers,” he said, 
“ in having with us this evening the noble head of 
our beloved order. It gives me great pleasure to call 
upon Grand Cyclops Bodge to preside over our delib- 
erations.” 

There was an audible titter, as the tall senior came 
forward and took his place behind the table. 

“ Let all levity cease,” he said, sternly. “ Our 


286 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Brotherhood is the abiding place of Wisdom. It is 
not meet that it should be made the playground of 
frivolity and irreverence. I may say, brothers, that 
it is a great pleasure to me, after making my way 
across the seas, through vast plains and over lofty 
mountains, to find myself face to face with the charter 
members of Krampton Lodge, No. 10,004.” 

“ Wow ! ” exclaimed Moker, in a stage whisper. 

“ Silence ! ” thundered the Grand Cyclops, banging 
his fist upon the table. 

Those present, with some difficulty, straightened out 
their faces. The tall head of the order observed them 
in solemn dignity for a moment, and then remarked, 
calmly : 

“ Brothers, I await your pleasure.” 

The meeting that followed was a decidedly interest- 
ing one — so rich in suggestions that were new and 
novel that, once or twice, the Grand Cyclops himself 
forgot the poise that was due his exalted position, and 
joined, unconsciously, in the general hilarity. 

It was decided, after some discussion, that the officers 
of the Krampton lodge should consist of the Noble 
Cyclops, who should, of course, be subordinate in all 
things to the Grand Cyclops, the Right Honorable 
Keeper of Records, a Fides Cerberus, the guardian of 
the golden chest, a Gabriel of the outer court, and a 
Gabriel of the inner court — known as Gabriel Primus 
and Gabriel Secundus — a Great Captain of the Guard, 
a right and left Spearman, a Noble Headsman, and 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 287 

a Council of Judges, which should include all members 
not otherwise provided for. 

“ I have an idea,” exclaimed Wiswell, as the meeting 
was about to break up. 

“ Have you ? ” returned Moker, in mock alarm. 
“ Will some one please hurry up and go for the 
doctor ? ” 

“ I’ll try to dispense with him,” laughed Wiswell, 
“ although I’m not surprised that the disease seems 
an uncommon one to Moker.” 

“ We’ll excuse you this time,” said Bodge, severely, 
“ but please never let it occur again.” 

“ Let’s have the idea, Al,” laughed Raymond. “ I 
guess the rest of us can stand it, if Bodge can.” 

“You remember, fellows — at least some of you 
may,” continued Wiswell, good-naturedly, “ that the 
Sociis gave a Russian play at their Public meeting 
four or five years ago. One of the scenes was a group 
of monks. The costumes were trailing black robes 
with a cowl, and long, dark-green stockings which 
came up to the hips.” 

’“Where were men ever dressed like that?” asked 
Ned. 

“ I never knew myself,” returned Wiswell. “ That 
was before I came to school here; but I attended the 
meeting, and remember that it seemed to impress the 
audience as about the proper thing.” 

“ Not many of them having traveled in Russia, I 
suppose,” suggested Akers. 


288 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“No, I think not — especially in the 16th century, 
which was the period in which the play was cast,” 
returned Wiswell, dryly. “ The chairman of the 
executive committee, who appears to have had a fairly 
fertile imagination, conceived the costumes, and hired 
Aunt Hannah Dunphy to make them out of black and' 
green cambric. I stumbled onto them the other day, 
in one of the closets of the Socii library, all done up 
neatly and packed away in some big pasteboard boxes. 
How would they answer for uniforms ? ” 

“ First-class,” said Bodge, with enthusiasm, an 
opinion that was cordially echoed by the others. 

“ I move that Brother Wiswell be invited to take 
charge of the regalia,” said Ned, and the motion was 
promptly put and carried with hearty applause. 

Every spare moment during the next few days was 
devoted to preparations for Copen’s initiation. Several 
meetings were held to afford practice to “ the degree 
team,” and the committee to provide a suitable “ castle ” 
succeeded in finding one that filled all requirements. 

About a mile above the village was a series of 
springs, which had been utilized by a wealthy gentle- 
man who had erected over them a number of buildings 
devoted to the work of hatching and rearing brook 
trout for the Boston and New York markets. 

At the upper end of the village street, the stream 
which flowed from these fish houses had been dammed 
to provide a good sized “ fish pond ” which was fairly 
alive with speckled beauties, but in which no one was 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 289 

allowed to angle without a special permit from the 
proprietor. 

To insure the protection of his property, the owner 
had purchased, at considerable expense, both sides of 
the stream which ran from the “ fish- works,” as they 
were called, through a picturesque ravine just back of 
the main village street to the river, a tributary of the 
Merrimac. 

In these purchases were included several old dwell- 
ings, which, being in a somewhat advanced state of 
decay, the new owner made no attempt to keep up, 
with the result that they soon became vacant, and had 
remained in that condition ever since. 

It was one of these buildings, an old story-and-a-half 
house situated on the banks of the stream, and half- 
hidden in a wilderness of maples and alders, combined 
with lilac and wild rose bushes, that had been selected 
as the rendezvous of the Iron Chain Brotherhood. 

It had once been painted red, and patches of pigment 
still adhered in spots to its cracked and rotting clap- 
boards, years after the oil, in which it was originally 
mixed, had dried away. 

The plastering in the lower part was off in patches, 
and the atmosphere was close and mouldy with the 
dank odor of decay. Up-stairs, however, was a large 
room extending across the entire front of the house, 
under its sloping roof, where the plastering still adhered, 
and in which was ample space for the “ council cham- 
ber ” of the Iron Chain Brotherhood. 


290 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


In a short time the boys had shoveled the debris in 
the house out of the windows, and had put the big 
room in readiness for the exercises of the initiation. 

Wiswell and Moker exhibited it to Raymond and 
Ned with great pride. 

Around the room next to the wall was a row of 
settees, which looked suspiciously like those that did 
service in the Chapel. In the corner opposite the door 
was an inverted sugar barrel draped in black cambric, 
on the front of which a skull and cross-bones had been 
painted in white. There was a platform behind the 
barrel made of a glass box, placed on its side. This 
was draped in red cambric. An inverted nail keg, 
draped in white cheese-cloth, occupied the platform. 

“ Behold the throne of the Grand Cyclops ! ” said 
Wiswell, with a wave of his hand. 

“ I tell you this will light up in great shape after 
dark/’ added Moker, enthusiastically. “ Of course 
there are things which we shall have at the initiation 
that are not here now.” 

“ When did you do all this?” demanded Ned. 

“ Last night, when you were in the arms of old 
Morpheus,” laughed Moker. 

“ Aren’t you taking great chances in leaving these 
things here through the day?” asked Raymond, un- 
easily. 

“ I think not,” returned Wiswell, lightly. “ People 
seldom come here. We had to get a start last night, 
anyway — so of course we had to risk it.” 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 29I 

“ Do you see the moat? ” interrupted Moker, point- 
ing to the stream. 

“ So that’s the approach to the castle, is it? ” laughed 
Raymond. 

“Where’s your drawbridge?” demanded Ned. 

Up drawbridge, grooms, — what, warder, ho ! 
Let the portcullis fall ! ’ ” quoted Moker, striking a 
dramatic attitude. 

“ Question ! Question ! ” exclaimed Raymond. 

“The drawbridge?” returned Moker. “I tell you 
we’ve got a peach — haven’t we, A1 ? ” 

“ I think it will answer the purpose,” chuckled Wis- 
well. “Better show it to them, hadn’t we?” 

“ Sure,” acceded Moker. 

Wiswell disappeared in the alders and presently 
returned with two wide hemlock planks joined together 
at one end with strap hinges. He placed them care- 
fully over the stream and then raised the upper plank 
in the air. 

“ Down drawbridge ! ” shouted Moker, and Wiswell 
released his hold upon the plank, which fell down upon 
the one below, like the closing of a big book, with a 
resounding slam. 

“ You see,” explained Wiswell to his delighted 
companions, “ the conductors of the candidate will 
first walk him across the town bridge over the fish 
pond. Then they will walk him back and forth 
through the woods until he imagines that he has 
travelled about forty miles. They will then emerge 


292 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

from the wilderness on the other side of the stream 
at this point, and will call for the Lynx-eyed Warder 
of the Moat to raise the portcullis and lower the draw- 
bridge, which will, after due examination, be done.” 

“ Here’s the drawbridge,” said Ned, “ but where’s 
your gate — your — er — portcullis ? ” 

“ We haven’t any,” laughed Moker, “ but the worthy 
Warder will be expected to give the effect of one by 
the use of an old broken corn-sheller which we found 
in the shed back of the house. The candidate, you 
know, will be blindfolded.” 

Wiswell concealed the plank bridge again, and the 
boys made their way back to their rooms, to resume 
their routine duties, and wait impatiently for the 
“ midnight hour,” which was the duly appointed time 
for Copen’s initiation. 

Time, however, has a way of passing, — sometimes 
slowly, sometimes swiftly, in accordance with the mood 
in which we view it, — and eventually the members of 
the Iron Chain Brotherhood found themselves in their 
trysting-place, duly robed and ready for their victim. 

The big room with its sloping sides had a pictur- 
esque and ghostly appearance. On the altar, with its 
gruesome draping, was a skull in which burned a tallow 
candle. This, and a bull’s-eye dark lantern which sat 
beside it, were the only lights in the room, and their 
flickering rays gave a peculiarly weird and solemn 
effect to the black-robed, closely-hooded figures ranged 
about the apartment. Raymond, after getting into his 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 


293 


costume and mingling with the rest, was unable to tell 
one from the other, with the exception of Wiswell, 
whose ample dimensions made identification easy, and 
Moker, who could not resist an occasional titter. 

On his fleecy throne, in awful majesty, sat the Grand 
Cyclops, his exceptional height increased to such an 
extent by a big cloth turban stuffed with cotton that 
his head scraped the ceiling. A wig of flowing white 
hair, a bushy beard that matched it, and a pair of old- 
fashioned spectacles, with heavy rims, gave him the 
appearance and solemn dignity of a patriarch. 

Beside him stood the Right Honorable Keeper of 
Records, his ancient and time-worn volume in his hand. 

The window had been left open a way, to enable 
those in the council chamber to hear the conversation 
at the moat. The silence was beginning to grow 
oppressive, when the deep tones of Barlow, who was 
acting as Warder, were heard in challenge. 

“ Halt, who comes there ! ” 

“ A friend, worthy Warder,” came the reply in the 
familiar voice of Hartley Pember, who in compariy 
with Irving Wing was conducting the candidate. 

“ By what token prove ye? ” demanded the Warder. 

“ By the sign and password of ancient Dan and 
Beersheba.” 

“ Advance, friend, and communicate them. Correct. 
What, ho, grooms! raise the portcullis.” A grating, 
rasping sound from the old corn-sheller showed that 
Barlow was pretending to execute his own order. 


294 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


An audible giggle came from the ghost-like circle 
in the council chamber, which would probably have 
developed into an unrestrained guffaw had not the 
Grand Cyclops sternly repressed it in language not 
strictly ritualistic. 

“ Simmer there, fellows ! simmer ! ” he exclaimed, 
in very evident alarm. “ You’ll give the whole thing 
away the first thing you know, if you’re not careful. 
Copen’s no fool.” 

The boys, with difficulty, straightened out their faces 
in season to hear Barlow commanding his imaginary 
grooms to lower the drawbridge. A loud, slamming 
noise announced the execution of the order, and once 
more the mirth of the council chamber threatened to 
overcome its self-restraint, several members present 
being obliged to resort to a cough in order to stifle a 
laugh. 

Immediately Copen and his conductors were heard 
making their way, in single file, across the plank bridge. 
By order of the Grand Cyclops the window was then 
closed, and the members waited, somewhat impatiently, 
for the appearance of the candidate. 

Presently Barlow entered the room, pulled up his 
hood, and joined the members on the settees. He had 
barely taken his place when there came a sharp chal- 
lenge from Gabriel Primus. 

“ Avaunt, unworthy wretch ! By what warrant dost 
thou intrude upon these sacred precincts? By what 
name do men know ye ? ” 


THE IRON CHAIN BROTHERHOOD 295 

“Alfred Copen.” 

“ Have you a passport? ” 

“ He has not,” came the reply in Pember’s voice. 
“ We, his friends, will stand hostages for him.” 

“ Advance ye, friends, and give the mystic watch- 
word.” 

There was a brief delay, the door swung open, and 
Copen, securely blindfolded, and supported on either 
side by Pember and Wing, entered the room. 

“ Halt ye ! Halt ye ! ! Halt ye ! ! ! ” shouted Charlie 
Hoyle, who was acting as Gabriel Secundus, in tones 
of fury. “ Audacious youth, why comest thou here ? 
By what insane impulse hast thou thus forfeited thy 
life ? Ho, Guards ! Ho, Spearmen ! Ho, Headsman ! ” 

“ He’s got his hoeing all done,” whispered Raymond 
to Moker, a remark that called forth something that 
sounded much like a giggle, but ended in a cough. 

“ Silence! ” thundered the Grand Cyclops, hitting the 
side of the sugar barrel a resounding whack with the 
croquet mallet which had been sawed off to serve as a 
gavel. “ Whom have we here, Gabriel Secundus ?” 

“ A stranger, your noble highness, who has an 
appearance of lunacy, and is unable to give an account 
of himself.” 

“ Put him in chains and let him be brought to the 
foot of the throne. Headsman, is your axe sharp, 
and have you the block in readiness ? ” 

“ All things are in readiness, your highness,” re- 
sponded Wiswell, in his deepest tones. 


296 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Attend us forthwith, prepared to do your duty.” 

Wiswell, armed with a wooden axe of ancient 
design, resplendent in a coat of aluminum paint, and 
fairly well spattered with “ blood,” took his place 
beside the throne. 

“ Let the procession advance,” commanded the Grand 
Cyclops. And Copen, pale as a ghost, and fully 
impressed with the solemnity of the occasion, was 
brought before the throne, the trace-chains, which had 
been bound about him by order of the Grand Cyclops, 
clanking dismally. On one side was Akers and on the 
other Dave Amber, each armed with a long, ferocious- 
looking spear, whose tin heads gleamed ominously in 
the dim light, as they rested menacingly against Copen’s 
breast. 

“ Arise, brothers,” commanded the Grand Cyclops. 

Every one in the room rose to his feet and remained 
motionless. 

The Grand Cyclops paused for a moment, during 
which the silence was almost oppressive. 

“ Let the stranger have light,” he commanded. 



“Candidate,” said the Grand Cyclops, “turn about 


AND LOOK BEFORE YOU. 


Page 29', 



CHAPTER XXIII 


copen’s initiation 

The bandage was removed from Copen’s eyes, and 
he started back in horror at the ghastly sight before 
him. 

“ Candidate,” said the Grand Cyclops, in sepulchral 
tones, “ turn about and look before you.” 

Copen slowly wheeled, and gazed upon the ghostly 
forms standing motionless before him with nervous 
fascination. His breath came quick and fast, and Ned 
afterwards declared that he distinctly saw his hair 
stand on end. 

“ About face,” commanded the Grand Cyclops, when 
he had remained in this position for a moment. Copen 
turned and faced the throne again. 

“ You are standing, candidate, face to face with a 
mighty mystery,” continued Bodge. “ If you are fear- 
ful of the great perils it involves, you need not go 
further. With full knowledge of this fact do you still 
thirst for further enlightenment?” 

“ I do,” asserted Copen, in a faint voice. 

“ Judges,” said the Grand Cyclops, addressing him- 
self to the members, “ what say ye ? ” 

29 7 


298 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ Oh woe ! woe ! woe ! ” came the answer, in a slow, 
funereal chorus. 

“ Remove his chains ! Let him have a fair chance ! ” 
commanded the presiding officer, and the guards made 
haste to obey. 

“ Candidate,” said Sandy Greyson, the Noble 
Cyclops, in solemn tones, stepping to the front with 
his right hand over his heart, and bowing low to the 
Grand Cyclops, “ we are all honored in having with 
us the Grand Cyclops — the distinguished head of the 
Iron Chain Brotherhood, who will, by virtue of his 
high office, preside over our deliberations to-night. 
It is meet that we should do him reverence. Bow 
low, sir ! Bow low ! ” 

The Headsman leaned over and whispered something 
to Copen, who immediately fell upon his knees, and 
pressed his forehead upon the floor nine successive 
times, the members in the background keeping tally 
by calling the count in a low monotone. 

“ ’ Tis well,” said the Grand Cyclops. “ Arise, 
candidate. What say ye now, judges?” 

“ Let him proceed,” came the solemn chorus. 

“ The judges decree that you go on, but, before 
advancing further, it is necessary for you to answer 
certain questions and assume certain obligations. Are 
you ready and willing to do so ? ” 

“ I am,” declared Copen. 

“ Right Honorable Keeper of Records, perform your 
duty.” 


copen's initiation 299 

“Judge” Raney, who held this position, and who 
had the ability to maintain an impassive countenance 
under any and all circumstances, stepped forward, and, 
laying his weather-stained book beside the skull on top 
of the altar, said briefly: 

“ Candidate, kiss the records.” 

Copen hastened to do so most reverently. 

Then followed a series of questions and answers 
in which Copen stated his age, color of hair and eyes, 
religious and political preferences, and various other 
things of a similar nature that seemed to him more 
or less trivial; but upon which the Council of Judges 
appeared to lay great stress. When he had finished, 
the Keeper of Records, assisted by the Headsman, 
proceeded to “ size him up ” by what is known as the 
Bertillon system, employed in the identification of 
criminals. 

Raney used the rule and tape, while Wiswell wrote 
down the measurements. 

“ Length of ear, four inches,” called the Keeper 
of Records. 

“ Four inches ? ” gasped the Headsman, incredu- 
lously. 

Raney carefully applied his tape again. “ Make it 
four and a half,” he said. 

“ Four and a half,” repeated Wiswell, making the 
entry on the book. 

“ Circumference of cranium, fifteen inches.” 

“Fifteen?” questioned the Headsman again. 


300 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


The Keeper of Records slowly reviewed the meas- 
urement. 

“ Make it fourteen,” he announced. 

“ Fourteen/’ repeated the Headsman, as he bent over 
his book to make the entry. 

In this way, with various amusing turns and byplay, 
which were entirely impromptu on the part of Raney 
and Wiswell, both of whom managed to maintain 
impassive faces, and an air of serious dignity, the 
measurements were carried to a close. 

Had Copen been less impressed with the solemnity 
of the occasion he might, possibly, have suspected that 
the noises that came from the Council of Judges, were 
not altogether the coughs they purported to be. 

Following the measurements the candidate faced the 
Grand Cyclops, with his hand upon his heart, while 
James Veasie, in his most impressive manner, admin- 
istered the oath which Raymond had prepared for the 
occasion. 

It was written on a long piece of paper, made by 
pasting sheets of foolscap together, and which, when 
unrolled, extended to the floor. 

It was of course written in red ink, which, to Copen’s 
inexperienced eyes, was supposed to represent blood, 
and the sides were decorated with a profusion of skulls, 
cross-bones, coffins, tombstones, and similarly cheerful 
inscriptions. 

The oath, as repeated by Copen, read as follows: 

“ I, Alfred Copen, do solemnly pledge myself never 


copen's initiation 


301 


to reveal to any person, living or dead, any of the 
ancient rites and mysteries that may be communicated 
to me to-night. If I shall prove faithless to this most 
solemn and binding obligation, may my body be buried 
in a dismal swamp, by the roots of a tall juniper tree, 
and my grave be marked only by a flat rock, upon 
which owl never sat nor toad never spat. May the 
jackals of the wilderness slink from their dens and 
come nightly to hold mournful requiem over my dust; 
may I fade forever from the memory of man; may 
the ground-hog burrow, undisturbed, in my final rest- 
ing place. 

“ To all of which penalties, being of a sane and 
disposing mind, I do herewith agree to submit myself 
in all cheerfulness, should I ever prove a traitor, a 
renegade, or a turncoat to the important and momen- 
tous duties here assumed, or the serious and deeply 
significant mysteries here imparted. 

“ To all of which I most solemnly pledge my faith- 
ful observance.” 

“ Arise, candidate,” commanded the Grand Cyclops, 
at the conclusion of the oath, and Copen complied with 
very evident relief. 

“You have now entered the outer portal of the inner 
sanctuary ; but before proceeding further it is necessary 
for you to submit to a further test of your worthiness. 
Are you still willing to go on ? ” 

“ I am,” declared Copen, firmly. 

“ Headsman, bring hither the magic cup.” 


302 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

Wiswell went to the large closet on the opposite 
side of the room, and returned with a small, earthen 
mug. This he placed on top of the altar. 

“ Have you the elixir of life? ” continued the Grand 
Cyclops. 

“ I have, your grace,” returned Wiswell, producing 
a bottle of water from inside his long robe. 

“ Prepare you then the awful potion.” 

With careful deliberation Wiswell poured some of 
the water into the mug. 

Copen was then horrified to see the Grand Cyclops 
take a paper from his pocket and pour the contents, 
a fine white powder, into the water, mixing it carefully 
and deliberately with a small dagger which hung at 
his belt. When he had finished he passed the mug 
to the trembling Copen. 

“ Drink,” he commanded. 

Copen hesitated. 

“ Drink long and deep, brother,” came in mournful 
chorus from the Council of Judges. 

Copen looked askance at the contents of the mug. 
“ Is — is it poison ? ” he faltered. 

“ Drink and be wise,” responded the Grand Cyclops, 
sternly. 

“ Drink long and deep, brother,” again came the 
dismal refrain from the Council of Judges. 

Copen looked doubtfully at the contents of the mug 
for a moment, and then gulped it down with a wry 
face — failing in his excitement to detect the table salt, 


copen's initiation 


303 

which was the mysterious powder mixed into it by the 
Grand Cyclops. 

The Council of Judges gathered around him in a 
ghastly circle. 

“He survives! He lives!” they announced in 
chorus. 

“ Copen,” said the Grand Cyclops, addressing the 
candidate by name for the first time, “ having now 
passed the last ordeal required for admission into the 
Iron Chain Brotherhood, you are now entitled to 
instruction in the grips, signs, and passwords of the 
order. 

“ Our grip differs from that of all other fraternities 
in being wholly dependent upon the pressure. It is 
an ordinary hand-clasp with three separate and distinct 
pressures — so.” 

He reached across the top of the altar, and, grasping 
Copen’s hand, gave him a practical illustration of the 
lesson. 

“ Our order does not believe in many signs,” he 
continued, “ and it has but one password. In this 
way all confusion is avoided, and recognition rendered 
easy and certain. 

“ Our password must never be spoken aloud. It 
is ” — he leaned across the table with an air of pro- 
found mystery, and spoke in a stage whisper audible 
to every one present — “ it is ‘ Mum/ 

“ The hailing sign is made by drawing in the lips, 
revealing both rows of teeth — so,” and Bodge made 


304 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

a grimace that convulsed the Council of Judges with 
laughter, which they found difficulty in concealing. 

“ Repeat, please,” said the Grand Cyclops, and 
Copen gave the sign. This time several of the Judges 
completely lost control of themselves, and their hilarity 
was only concealed by the prompt resort to a cheer, 
which appeared to Copen quite in harmony with the 
spirit of the occasion. 

The Grand Cyclops paused, impressively. 

“ We come last of all,” he said, with slow delib- 
eration, “ to the sign of distress. This is made by 
opening the mouth to its widest extent three successive 
times — thus. Repeat, please.” 

Wiswell attempted to choke off the guffaw that 
followed Copen’s demonstration of proficiency in this 
sign, by starting to sing “ He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” 
A few of the others attempted to join in, and the effort 
ended in a general laugh. 

“ One thing more remains to be attended to,” 
announced the Grand Cyclops. “ You will please turn 
over to me for deposit with our Fides Cerberus, the 
Guardian of the Golden Chest, the sum of $3.50. Let 
me say to you frankly that this money will be expended 
in the purchase of a sardine supper to be served Mon- 
day evening in Mr. Wiswell’s room, and which you 
will, of course, be expected to attend. Have you the 
receipt in readiness, Cerberus ? ” 

“ I have, your grace,” responded Frank May, step- 
ping forward beside the throne. 


copen's initiation 


305 


The money was paid, and the receipt, which May 
had taken the precaution to have wholly in typewriting, 
and in the name of the Brotherhood, was passed to 
Copen. 

The Grand Cyclops descended from his throne and 
seizing Copen’s hand gave it three distinct and cordial 
pressures. 

“ Alfred Copen,” he said, in measured tones, “ by 
the authority vested in me, and by reason of the obliga- 
tions you have assumed, it gives me great pleasure to 
pronounce you a member of the Iron Chain Brother- 
hood. Gabriel Secundus, please see that the new 
brother is provided with the regalia befitting his 
station.” 

Copen was immediately hustled into a long cloak and 
stockings, after which the members crowded around 
him to give him the fraternal grip, and congratulate 
him upon his new honors. 

The first gray streaks of dawn were beginning to 
show in the east when the meeting finally broke up, 
and the members straggled back to their rooms. 

“ I’m a complete wreck,” laughed Wiswell, as he 
bade Raymond and Ned good-night. “ It’s lucky for 
all of us that to-day is Sunday. I don’t fancy that 
any of us are in condition to shine in recitation.” 

Monday evening found the tables spread in Wis- 
well’s room for the sardine supper purchased with 
Copen’s initiation fee. Nearly all the members had 
assembled, and were beginning to wonder what could 


306 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


be the cause of Copen’s delay, when Hartley Pember 
burst into the room in a state of considerable excite- 
ment. 

“ Here’s a pretty kettle of fish ! ” he exclaimed, in 
a tone of disgust. 

Wiswell paused in the act of spreading a soda cracker 
with sardines. 

“What’s the row?” he asked, coolly. 

“ What do you think ? That ass of a Copen has 
gone and given everything away.” 

Exclamations of surprise and consternation greeted 
this announcement. 

“ How do you know he has ? ” demanded Moker. 

“ My brother just told me about it. You know I’ve 
never told him about our new Brotherhood,” he added. 

“ Of course not,” said Raymond, impatiently. “ But 
what’s that got to do with the matter?” 

“ Hold on, let me get my bearings,” protested 
Pember. “ Who was it told Copen that Prof. Pres- 
cott was an old charter member of the Iron Chain 
Brotherhood ? ” 

“ Why — er — let me see. I believe I dropped 
something of the kind,” acknowledged Judge Raney, 
a little sheepishly. “ That was when I was fishing 
for him, you know.” 

“ Well, you’ve got us into an elegant scrape by it,” 
was Pember’s sarcastic comment. “ Copen has been 
trying Bodge’s idiotic hailing sign and sign of distress 
on the Professor.” 


copen’s initiation 


307 

Consternation was visible in every countenance at 
this announcement. 

“ On the Professor ! ” exclaimed Moker, incredu- 
lously. “ Come off ! What are you giving us ? ” 

“ That’s straight,” insisted Pember. “ My brother 
saw the whole of it. Didn’t know what it meant; 
thought Copen was suffering from temporary insanity. 
There’s no doubt about it, however. He was simply 
working the signs of the Iron Chain Brotherhood on 
the old boy.” 

Wiswell threw himself on the lounge in a paroxysm 
of laughter. “ Oh, my ! ” he gasped. “ This is worth 
hanging for. It’s the richest thing I ever heard.” 

“ What did Copen do? ” asked Ned. 

“ It was in the recitation on commercial law, you 
know,” explained Pember. “ My brother didn’t see 
the whole of it. He heard a giggling going on in 
the class, and at first he didn’t know what it meant. 
Thought perhaps they might be laughing at him. By 
and by he caught sight of Copen sitting on the end 
of the front row, looking the Professor squarely in 
the eye, and showing his teeth at him. Looked just 
as if he wanted to bite him.” 

“ Wow ! wow ! ” laughed Moker, ruefully. “ This 
means at least five o’clock probation for the members 
of the Iron Chain Brotherhood.” 

“ What did the Professor do ? ” asked Raymond, who 
had been following the narrative with deep interest. 

“ At first he looked sort of surprised. Then he 


308 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

frowned at Copen, and pretended to ignore him. 
When the class got to giggling he began to grow red 
in the face. Finally, when they all exploded together 
he couldn’t stand it any longer. He half rose in his 
chair, as if he wanted to get Cope by the ear, and then 
sank back again as if he was wilted by the very audacity 
of the fellow. Finally he found his voice and roared 
out: ‘You may leave the room, Copen.’” 

A burst of laughter greeted this part of the narrative. 

“What did Cope do?” asked Charlie Hoyle. 

“ My brother said he acted kind of dazed. He 
started for the door, then turned around when he’d 
gone about half-way, and showed his teeth at the Prof 
again. That was the last straw. The old boy got 
right up on his hind legs then. He meant business. 
‘Do you hear me, sir? Leave the room instantly,’ 
he shouted.” 

“ I’ll bet that razzle-dazzled Cope,” declared Ned, 
in a tone of conviction. 

“ My brother said he thought it surely would ; but 
Cope only went as far as the door, then turned with 
his hand on the knob, and made three big mouths at 
the Prof. Looked for all the world like a sculpin 
reaching for a clam bait. The Prof didn’t know what 
to make of him — in fact he was completely con- 
flummuxed. He looked at Cope for a moment ’bout 
as he would at the puzzle page in a magazine, then he 
said more quietly: 

“ ‘ On reflection, Copen, you needn’t leave the room 


copen’s initiation 309 

at present. You may take a seat in the rear of the 
class. I desire to see you at the close of the recitation.’ 
When the class went out they left Copen with the 
Prof.” 

“ That settles it,” groaned Moker. “ Copen’s a sieve. 
I’ll bet it didn’t take Prescott long to get initiated into 
the Iron Chain Brotherhood.” 

“Where’s Bodge?” demanded Judge Raney, sud- 
denly. 

“ Looks as if our Grand Cyclops had returned to 
his far-off home beyond the seas. Perhaps he smelled 
a rat,” said Charlie Hoyle. 

“ Or had a special wire from the front,” added Ned. 

The door swung open without any warning, and 
Bodge, standing on the threshold, surveyed the group 
with a look of quizzical inquiry. 

“ Thought I heard some one taking my name in 
vain just now,” he said. 

“ You did,” admitted Wiswell. “ We were just 
beginning to fear that you’d taken to the woods.” 

“ And deserted my comrades of the Iron Chain 
Brotherhood? Never! Away, base thought!” 

“ Of course you’ve heard the news,” interposed 
Moker, eagerly. 

“ Certainly, and, as the tall head of this great order, 
I investigated it forthwith.” 

He turned towards the hallway with a wave of his 
hand. 

“ Enter, brother,” he called, and, to the amazement 


3io 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


of all, Copen came into the room, closing the door 
carefully behind him. 

“ Brother Copen,” said Bodge, suavely, “ will you 
kindly relate to the Brothers here present your recent 
experience with Charter Member Prescott ?” 

Charter Member Prescott! The members of the 
group fairly gasped at this astounding exhibition of 
nerve. Copen shifted uneasily from one foot to the 
other. 

“ Of course I’m new to all this, brothers. I’m afraid 
I made a mistake in giving our sign too publicly — 
though I really didn’t think of it that way till Prof. 
Prescott told me.” 

Prof. Prescott! Verily the plot was beginning to 
thicken. The boys were all hanging on Copen’s words 
with breathless attention. 

“What did he say to you?” asked Wiswell, curi- 
ously. 

“ Why, first he asked me what I meant by such 
outrageous conduct. I told him I thought he’d surely 
recognize the signs of the Iron Chain Brotherhood. 
He began to smile then, and I saw that he understood 
things. ‘ Ah,’ he said, ‘ so you belong to the Brother- 
hood. When were you initiated ? ’ I told him Satur- 
day night. He held out his hand. ‘ Let me see if 
you remember the grip,’ he said. He laughed right 
out loud when I gave it to him. ‘ I guess you’re 
genuine,’ he said. Then he asked me for the signs 
again. When I gave them he seemed mightily pleased. 


copen’s initiation 


311 

Then he asked me how I enjoyed the initiation, and 
what the fee was now, and when and where the next 
meeting of the Brotherhood would be held.” 

“ And of course you told him ? ” said Bodge, blandly. 

“ Why, yes — I supposed all members had — ” 

“ Certainly — quite right — quite right,” interrupted 
Bodge. 

“What else did the Prof say?” inquired Ned, who 
was plainly impatient at this interruption. 

“ Oh, nothing much. Talked about general things 
a while, and looked at me in that funny way of his, 
out of the corners of his eyes, and then he said : f Let 
me see if you remember the signs.’ He gave them 
both to me; but he couldn’t catch me. I was able to 
name them for him.” 

“ Of course you were,” said Bodge, with a well 
simulated air of approval. “ Brother Copen, you are 
indeed a credit to our instruction.” 

“Was that all he said to you?” asked Raney. 

“ N-no,” admitted Copen, a little reluctantly. “ He 
told me that I had made a great mistake in showing 
the secret signs of our brotherhood — in such a public 
manner.” 

“ Of course ! ” said Wiswell, gravely. “ A very 
great mistake.” 

The members of the group, who had been exchang- 
ing significant glances during this recital, and whose 
long faces clearly showed their consternation, nodded 
an emphatic approval. 


312 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ He felt it was due to my — that is to say, that 
my inexperience — er — ” stammered Copen, very red 
in the face. 

“ And so he was willing to overlook it, was he ? ” 
interrupted Bodge. 

“ Yes,” returned Copen, humbly. 

“ Brothers,” said Bodge, with a magnanimous wave 
of his hand. “ Inasmuch as Brother Prescott is will- 
ing to overlook the indiscretion of our young friend, 
is it your pleasure that he be excused? It is a vote.” 

“ He must think it strange to find that Bodge and 
the Grand Cyclops from over the seas are one and the 
same person,” whispered Ned to Moker. 

“ Sh-h ! ” returned Moker, warningly. “ He doesn’t 
recognize him at all. He can’t tell one of us from 
the other.” 

The door from the hallway swung suddenly open, 
and a gasp of dismay went up from the entire party. 

Standing upon the threshold was Professor Pres- 
cott, his eyes twinkling with evident enjoyment of the 
situation, and his lips drawn back to give the unmis- 
takable sign of the Iron Chain Brotherhood. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 

The unexpected appearance of Professor Prescott, 
and his evident familiarity with the secrets of the new 
Brotherhood, filled the group in Wiswell’s room with 
dismay. They looked at each other aghast, and were 
conscious of feeling a trifle cheap. 

Bodge was the first to recover his equanimity. 

“ Walk right in,” he said, cordially. 

The Professor stepped into the room and closed the 
door behind him. 

“ Good-evening, brothers,” he said, cheerfully. 
“ You see I managed to get round all right. I 
should be glad, however, if you would arrange so 
that I can get notices of future meetings of our 
Brotherhood a little earlier.” 

The boys exchanged uneasy glances, but no one 
ventured a reply. 

“ Take a seat, Professor,” said Wiswell, awaking 
suddenly to the requirements of hospitality, after a 
pause that had been almost painful. 

“ Thank you,” responded the Professor, drawing 
the big cane-seated chair up to the table. “ Well, 
313 


3 T 4 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


now, this certainly looks inviting/’ he said, rubbing 
his hands. “ Cheese, crackers, sardines, olives, and 
pickles — nothing lacking to the completeness of the 
occasion. Let me see, Brother Bodge, I was one of 
the charter members, was I not?” 

“ You were,” asserted Bodge, promptly and solemnly 
— an exhibition of nerve that dumfounded his com- 
panions. 

“ Ah, yes, thanks,” said the Professor, gravely. 
“ Time slips away so fast, you know, that little details 
like that sometimes escape our memory.” 

“Won’t you help yourself, Professor?” interposed 
Wiswell. 

“Thanks! You are very kind, Pm sure; but inas- 
much as I’ve already eaten one supper, I’m afraid that 
indulgence in this generous, but not altogether diges- 
tible, repast might cause me — ” 

He paused abruptly, and, looking slowly round upon 
the assembled boys, solemnly gave the sign of distress. 

The members of the group stared at him in amaze- 
ment, and a sickly grin went round the circle. The 
Professor, however, was apparently oblivious of their 
confusion. 

“ I think I’ll take this just to be sociable and break 
bread with you,” he said, with cheerful suavity, help- 
ing himself to a cracker. 

“Won’t you have a sardine with it?” asked Wis- 
well, recovering himself with a start. 

“ No, thanks,” responded the Professor. He bit a 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 315 

piece from the cracker, and rising to his feet stood 
holding the remainder of it in his hand. 

“ You appear to be the master of ceremonies here 
this evening, Mr. Wiswell,” he said, blandly. “Are 
you the present head of our order ? ” 

“ No,” returned Wiswell, with a sidelong glance at 
his companions. “ That great honor belongs to Brother 
Bodge.” 

The Professor solemnly turned and addressed Bodge. 

“ Most Noble Chief,” he said, gravely, “ I am indeed 
delighted to be present with you this evening. I am 
convinced that the present membership of our frater- 
nity has been doing strenuous work for the advance- 
ment of the order. There is one thing, brothers, that 
I must insist upon, and it is that in the future your 
secretary notify me in advance of all your meetings, 
in order that I have a chance to attend. As a member 
of the Iron Chain Brotherhood — a charter member, 
according to the testimony of Brother Bodge — I shall 
insist on my full rights ; and now I must say good-night. 
I hope this supper won’t give any of you bad dreams.” 

He extended his hand to Wiswell and gave him the 
grip of the order, the boys present noting the three 
distinct pressures. Some of the party fancied they 
detected a gleam of mirth in his eyes; but when he 
bowed to them with ceremonious dignity, as he was 
leaving the room, his face was almost austere in its 
gravity. 

The boys looked at each other with eager question- 


316 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

in g in their eyes, when he was gone; but, owing to 
the presence of Copen, who evidently had no suspicion 
of the farce comedy that had just been enacted, they 
forbore to comment. 

A constraint rested upon them all during the prog- 
ress of the supper, although one or two of them 
endeavored to throw it off by a feeble attempt at 
witticism. 

The meeting broke up a little later, and it may be 
added that it was the last gathering of the projectors 
of the Iron Chain Brotherhood as members of that 
fraternity. 

It took Copen some time to recognize the fact that 
he had been hoaxed, for his perceptions were not quick. 
He was terribly enraged and chagrined when he real- 
ized the extent to which he had been victimized. A 
wiser person would have maintained a discreet silence, 
but wisdom did not occupy a large place in Copen’s 
possessions. Ignoring Ned Grover’s sensible advice 
to “ grin and bear it,” he aired his grievances upon all 
occasions. As a result every student in the Academy 
was soon familiar with the Iron Chain Brotherhood 
and its mysteries, and wherever Copen turned he was 
smilingly greeted with its hailing sign and sign of dis- 
tress, a style of salutation that never failed to make 
him furiously angry. It finally became almost impos- 
sible to get him to shake hands, so suspicious was he 
of receiving the three pressures of the Brotherhood 
gnp- 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 3 1 7 

With the return of warm weather the baseball team, 
under the leadership of Captain Wiswell, became again 
the center of attraction among the students. Ned and 
Raymond had trained faithfully under the tutelage of 
Cy Devons, and when the big fellow had left, in the 
latter part of April, to join his team in Chicago, he had 
expressed the emphatic opinion that they “ would do.” 

They certainly played together, as Wiswell declared, 
“ like clockwork.” Raymond had no greater number 
of curves than before, but he had gained greatly in his 
control of them, as well as in the coolness and speed 
of his delivery. He had also improved noticeably in 
the deceptive change of pace that had been so baffling 
to batsmen the previous season. Ned’s backstop work, 
always easy and graceful, had gained in quickness and 
sureness, and his snappy throwing to bases was both 
a revelation and a delight to the Krampton students. 
Both he and Raymond had a confidence and a swing 
in their work which had been lacking in their first year, 
notable as had been their success. 

On the whole there was a gain in the strength of 
the Krampton team aside from the increased experience 
and effectiveness of its battery. Silas Akers took the 
place at third base which had been left vacant by Del 
Baxter’s graduation, and proved a far better player 
than his predecessor had been. He was an exception- 
ally strong and accurate thrower, to say nothing of 
his marked superiority as a batsman. As a scientific 
and daring base-runner he easily led the team. His 


318 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

skill in this department of play did much to strengthen 
the nine in what had previously been its weakest point. 

It had been expected that the graduation of Billy 
Cass, the crack second baseman, would also result in 
weakening the infield; but here again the team was 
fortunate. Donald Barlow was tried in the position, 
and soon made himself a fixture there. While not so 
good a thrower as Akers, he was equally sure in his 
handling of grounders, and thrown balls. Moreover, 
he speedily developed into the hardest and surest hitter 
in a team which was especially strong in the number 
of its good batsmen. 

While the students at Krampton felt well satisfied 
with their team, and confident that it would give a 
good account of itself, there were disturbing reports 
of a wonderful new battery which was to do duty for 
the Stewart Academy. The pitcher was a young man 
about twenty-four years of age, who went by the name 
of Larry Dinsmore. He had a catcher, “ Chunky ” 
Murphy, who was about the same age. No one seemed 
to know where these men came from. Outsiders and 
students from the other academies in the league, 
who saw them in practice, declared that they looked 
strangely mature and out of place among the boys with 
whom they were associated. At the same time it was 
agreed that they were “ star performers.” Dinsmore 
was a left-hander, with sharp curves, a speedy delivery, 
and a crisscross, worked from the opposite sides of 
the box, which was something new to the players of 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 319 

the school league, and proved very baffling to them. 
He was strongly supported behind the bat by Murphy, 
who was an exceptionally fine all-around player. 

Raymond, who was sent to Stewart for an afternoon 
to watch the phenomenal Dinsmore, and secure pointers 
on his delivery, was not at all satisfied that the new 
Stewart pitcher and his stocky catcher were genuine 
students. He found that both players were very recent 
comers, who had in fact only put in an appearance at 
the beginning of the summer term. Raymond endeav- 
ored to secure some information regarding their ante- 
cedents from Arbuckle, the Stewart manager; but all 
his inquiries met with evasive replies, a fact which only 
tended to strengthen his suspicions. Arbuckle was the 
son of a millionaire manufacturer and railroad mag- 
nate in the West, and was known to be exceedingly 
anxious that the Stewart team should win the league 
championship during his control of its affairs. 

The more Raymond reflected upon the matter, the 
more suspicious he became as to the true character of 
the new Stewart battery. As he was passing down 
the street to take the train for the return home to 
Krampton, he noticed, in a photographer’s window, an 
excellent group picture of the Stewart team, including 
its new battery. He immediately entered and pur- 
chased two of them. 

“ I’ll tell you what, fellows,” he said, exhibiting one 
of them to Manager Archer and Captain Wiswell the 
day after his return to Krampton, “ I don’t believe that 


3 20 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


either of those battery men there are genuine students. 
See how much older they are than the other players. 
It’s too thin ! They’re ringers — both of them.” 

“ What did you think of their practice?” asked 
Wiswell. 

“ One thing was very evident, they are either profes- 
sionals or else they have had the benefit of professional 
training.” 

Archer was plainly disturbed. “ They are good 
men, are they?” he inquired, anxiously. 

“ They are certainly stars,” returned Raymond, with 
enthusiasm. 

Wiswell paced thoughtfully up and down the room 
several times. “ Well,” he said, presently, addressing 
himself to Raymond, “ what if they are professionals 
— how are we going to prove it? ” 

“ Let the league committee investigate their stand- 
ing,” returned Raymond. 

“ It won’t amount to shucks,” asserted Archer, 
emphatically. “ They are pretty sure to lie about it, 
any way; and a majority of the committee will cheer- 
fully accept their statements. It’s anything to down 
Krampton with most of them.” 

“ Not quite as bad as that, I think, Harry,” inter- 
posed Wiswell. “ The committee would, I think, be 
disposed to consider carefully any evidence we could 
submit.” 

“ Evidence ! ” echoed Archer, in a tone of disgust. 
“ I tell you, Al, that’s just what we can’t get.” 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 32 1 

“ I don’t know about that,” said Raymond. “ I 
bought two of these group photographs. The other 
one I mailed to Cy Devons last night. He knows 
most of the professional players in the country, and 
I’m inclined to think that any statement from him 
would have weight with the committee.” 

Wiswell’s face lighted up with a smile. 

“ I’m glad you did that,” he said, warmly. “ It’s 
a good idea, and one I fear I should never have thought 
of myself.” 

“ You’re a trump, Benson,” said Archer, enthusi- 
astically. 

The career of the new Stewart battery proved to 
be one of triumph. The players of the Tillville, Cas- 
well, and Dalton teams fell easy victims to its prowess. 
When the Stewart team finally came to Krampton it 
did so with all the prestige that comes, when the season 
is well advanced, from an unbroken record of victories. 

The grandstand was crowded with spectators when 
the two teams came upon the field. There was a 
general feeling that the game would be a hotly con- 
tested one. 

As the Stewart manager was hurrying to the vis- 
itors’ bench he was stopped, midway of the field, by 
Harry Archer. 

“ I wish to serve notice here, Mr. Arbuckle,” he 
said, coolly, “ that we shall protest the playing of Snell 
and McCarthy.” 

The Stewart manager grew very red in the face. 


322 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Snell and McCarthy ? ” he repeated, sharply. “ Who 
are they? What are you talking about, anyway?” 

“ I think you comprehend,” returned Archer, quietly, 
looking the excited Stewart manager squarely in the 
eye. “ I mean Snell and McCarthy, alias Dinsmore 
and Murphy, your hired professional battery.” 

“ Our hired professional battery ? ” blustered Ar- 
buckle. “ I must say, Mr. Archer, that I admire your 
nerve. It’s cold enough for a refrigerator. Allow 
me to remark, however, that there is not a member 
of our team who is not a student in good standing at 
the Stewart Academy.” 

“ I’m not questioning their standing in your Acad- 
emy,” returned Archer, calmly, “ but only in our 
league. They are professional players. Perhaps they 
have been led to Stewart Academy by an irresistible 
thirst for knowledge ; but there is a suspicion that their 
inducement was a more mercenary one. You ought 
to know about that.” 

“ If you are afraid to play us, why aren’t you man 
enough to say so?” sneered Arbuckle, his face white 
with passion. “ Don’t trump up any pretence. Do 
your squealing in the open. Allow me to say, how- 
ever, that I feel nothing but contempt for a quitter.” 

“ There are several ways of quitting,” returned 
Archer, sharply, “ and one is by employing profes- 
sionals to do your athletic work for you. We have 
no objection to playing you a practice game; but we 
shall certainly object to its being counted in the league 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 323 

series, or for the school pennant, if you allow two 
professional players to have a place upon your team, 
and participate in it.” 

Arbuckle looked at him, contemptuously. 

“ What evidence have you to support your charges ? ” 
he demanded, angrily. 

“ This for one thing,” returned Archer, taking a 
letter from his pocket, and handing it to the Stewart 
manager. It was dated at Chicago, Illinois, and read 
as follows : 

“ My Dear Benson : 

“ Your letter and accompanying group photograph 
is at hand. I have no difficulty in recognizing the 
members of Stewart's new battery. One of them is 
Dick McCarthy, a catcher who has seen considerable 
service in the West. He was at times on several of 
the teams of the Western League. Last season he 
played for a while in the Chicago City League, and 
later drifted to the Pacific slope, where I understand 
he played good ball with one of the clubs of the Cali- 
fornia League. He is a pretty good man behind the 
bat, and would probably have been in the big league 
to-day if he had been less familiar with John Barley- 
corn. Snell came on from the Pacific slope early this 
spring touted as a ‘ phenom,’ and was given a trial 
by one of our League clubs; but I understand that he 
did not fill the bill. I had supposed that he was back 
in California again. We played a series of practice 
games with his team at Hot Springs, when he was 


324 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

being tried in the National League, and there can be 
absolutely no question as to his identity or that of 
McCarthy. I can make oath to both of them. The 
Stewart manager appears to have netted them on the 
fly ; but I’ll guarantee that it took something more than 
molasses to bait them. They ought to play great ball 
— in a fitting school league. 

“ With regards to all the boys, 

“ Sincerely yours, 

“Cyrus Devons/’ 

The Stewart manager read this letter with a dark- 
ening brow. “ Bosh ! ” he exclaimed, in a tone of 
intense irritation, handing it back to Archer. “I’d 
like to know what business this fellow Devons has 
sticking his nose into this matter, anyway. He makes 
me tired. If he’s trained your men, he ought to be 
willing to let them show their speed. What’s the use 
of adopting a policy of scuttle ? ” 

“ There’s no scuttle about it,” said Archer, firmly. 
“ If this game is played at all, it will be under protest, 
and with a written agreement between us to have that 
protest submitted to the general athletic committee of 
the league within the next five days.” 

“ Indeed ! ” sneered Arbuckle. “ Is that all ? 
Wouldn’t you like to have us insure you against 
defeat?” 

“ We’ll take those chances,” returned Archer, coolly, 
“ but we don’t intend to stand for ringers. We play 
a strictly amateur team.” 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 325 

“ Do you? ” inquired Arbuckle, in a tone of sarcasm. 
“ How about Benson and Grover ? ” 

“If you can show that either of them has ever 
received a cent of pay for playing baseball, they will 
never play another game for Krampton.” 

“ There’s something mighty funny about those two 
men,” continued Arbuckle, bitterly. “ About the time 
you were out of a battery, with nobody left but Cass, 
who never was quite sure where to locate second base, 
lo, and behold, in comes not only a pitcher but a 
catcher! Just what was needed to round out a win- 
ning team for you.” 

He paused, and excitedly wiped his perspiring face 
with his handkerchief. 

“Very timely!” he sneered, “but thin — mighty 
thin! These fellows you conveniently locate some- 
where in the northern Maine woods, where no students 
ever came from to any of the schools in our league 
before, and probably never will again. They turn up 
first as proteges of your professional coach Devons; 
they break into our company with the unmistakable 
signs of professionalism in their play; but the rest of 
us did not cry baby — not a bit of it. We stood up 
and took our medicine like men, while the pennant 
went to Krampton. Now Stewart has a fairly good 
battery, and you are putting up a howl about it. I 
notice that it makes a mighty sight of difference to 
you fellows here at Krampton whose ox is gored.” 

“ We are perfectly willing that the committee should 


326 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

fully investigate Benson and Grover at the same time 
it does Snell and McCarthy,” said Archer. 

During this interview the crowd, not knowing the 
nature of the conference, was becoming restless, and 
shouts of “ Cut it out! ” “ Play ball! ” “ Play ball! ” 
testified to their impatience. 

“ If I had my way I’d throw up the game,” said 
Arbuckle, wrathfully. “ However, I’ll consult with the 
members of our team, and let you know our decision.” 

“ I hope you didn’t yield a hair to him,” said Wis- 
well, as Archer rejoined the members of the Krampton 
team, who rose from their bench and gathered eagerly 
about him to hear the result of his conference with the 
Stewart manager. 

“ Not on your life,” returned Archer, “ but wasn’t 
he hot under the collar, though! He claims that 
Benson and Grover are professionals.” 

Exclamations of surprise and indignation greeted 
this announcement. 

“ Well, let that go to the committee, too,” laughed 
Wiswell. “ Of course he had to put up some sort of 
a bluff.” 

“ That’s what I agreed to do,” smiled Archer. 
“ Ah, here he comes now.” 

The Stewart manager was striding across the space 
in front of the grandstand in what was obviously no 
pleasant frame of mind. 

“ We’ll play,” he snapped briefly, as he came within 
hearing of Archer, 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 327 

The Krampton manager handed him a written agree- 
ment to refer the protest to the general committee of 
the league for immediate investigation. Arbuckle hesi- 
tated a moment, and read it over carefully, with a 
scowling face, then slowly signed it, handed it con- 
temptuously to Archer, and stalked angrily back to 
his players. 

A moment later the umpire called play, and the 
game was on. 

The contest that followed was a memorable one to 
those who witnessed it. Both Raymond and Snell 
were in fine form, and the struggle from the first 
developed into a pitcher’s battle. The visitors had 
been the first at bat, and when the Krampton players, 
dust-stained and reeking with perspiration, came to 
bat in the last half of the eleventh inning, neither side 
had scored a run. Only five of the Stewart players 
had succeeded in reaching first base, two of whom had 
been thrown out by Ned in an attempt to steal second. 
Six of the Krampton players had succeeded in reaching 
the initial sack, and Akers had electrified the crowd 
by a daring slide which landed him safely on second 
base. All of them, however, had been left on the bases 
when their side was retired. 

“ This is the time we win,” said Ned, as he picked 
out his favorite bat and made his way to the plate. 

“ Take plenty of time,” counseled Wiswell, in a 
low tone. 

Snell opened up promptly with his favorite cross- 


328 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

fire; but Ned did not offer at it, with the result that 
the first two pitches were called balls. At this point 
Ned changed to the opposite side of the plate, taking 
the position of a left-handed batsman. This move 
seemed to bother Snell, and a moment later Ned 
trotted leisurely to first for a base on balls. Raymond 
evoked a tumult of applause by a short hit over third 
base. A sacrifice along the first base line by Wiswell 
advanced both runners a base. Barlow, the next batter 
up, drove a long fly to deep center. It was beautifully 
gathered by the Stewart center fielder; but Ned raced 
home from third base on the play, and the game was 
won. 

For a time the Krampton sympathizers went fairly 
wild in the exuberance of their joy, and their cheers 
added not a little to the discomfiture of the visitors. 

“ Now that you’ve won, I suppose you’ll be glad 
to drop your protest,” sneered Arbuckle, as he over- 
took Archer on his way back from the field. 

“ On the contrary,” returned Archer, with quiet 
dignity, “ we shall insist on the committee’s passing 
upon the whole question.” 

“ As you please,” growled Arbuckle, wrathfully, and 
turning his back abruptly on Archer he rejoined the 
members of his team, who were straggling along in 
the rear. 

Archer was as good as his word. The whole ques- 
tion was placed before the general committee of the 
league. Devons’s letter was reinforced by photographs, 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 329 

showing Snell and McCarthy in uniform in group 
pictures of professional teams with which they had 
formerly played. The evidence was conclusive. The 
true character of the Stewart manager’s insinuations 
regarding Raymond and Ned was speedily shown by 
the fact that he did not even attempt to put in any 
evidence to sustain his bluff. As a result Snell and 
McCarthy were declared ineligible to play in the league, 
while the amateur standing of the Krampton battery 
was officially affirmed. All the games in which the 
Stewart battery had participated were thrown out. 

The decision was sullenly received by the Stewart 
students, who promptly withdrew their team from the 
league. The games for the remainder of the season 
were hotly contested; but Krampton was able to land 
the pennant by a good, safe margin. Soon after the 
last game, a meeting of the Krampton Baseball Asso- 
ciation was held, at which Raymond was elected captain 
of the team for the next year. 

The summer term, and with it the school year, drew 
rapidly to a close. Anniversary day came at last. 
The village swarmed with Alumni, and the beautiful 
summer day was alive with picturesque groups, and 
vocal with the cheery greetings of reunited friends. 
The principal interest of the day naturally centered 
about the members of the graduating class. It was 
certainly their time of power and conscious pride, the 
crowning hour of their school course, that veiled, for 
one brief moment, the sadness of parting. 


330 


RAYMOND BENSON AT ICRAMPTON 


The boys in their high collars and frock coats, the 
girls in dresses of immaculate white, with slippers to 
match — and carrying in their hands the fragrant 
floral tributes of loving and thoughtful friends — made 
up a picture well calculated to take a strong hold upon 
the youthful imagination, and Raymond and Ned did 
not fail to be duly impressed by it. 

They listened sadly to the graduating orations of 
Wiswell, Moker, Bodge, Veasie, Raney, Akers, Grey- 
son, Pember, Densor, and other friends of the senior 
class. 

What a lonesome school world it would be without 
these true and tried friends! 

Porter Hall lost its attractions, and they were glad 
to join a party of their remaining friends who had 
engaged quarters for the next year in the Finn house 
— the home of a widowed lady who resided on the 
village street not far from the campus. 

The day of graduation wore slowly away. There 
was one more meeting in Wiswell’s room. Old songs 
were sung, old experiences revived, after which came 
a few hours devoted to hasty and somewhat promis- 
cuous packing. 

Early the next morning outgoing stages were 
crowded with students en route for home. 

Raymond and Ned remained a few days at the 
former’s home in Bangor, and then, accompanied by 
Mrs. Benson and her daughter Clara, continued on 
their way to Chestnut. Ned was delighted to be back 


EVENTS OF THE SUMMER TERM 


331 


at home again with his father and mother, while Ray- 
mond was happy in the prospect of a pleasant summer 
with his grandparents, amid the changing delights and 
familiar scenes of the old farm. His pleasure was not 
a little enhanced by a promise from his father to pass 
a three-weeks’ vacation with him at the farm, renew- 
ing old acquaintances, and enjoying the trout fishing 
in his native town. It was a happy ending for a school 
year that had been both pleasant and profitable. 


CHAPTER XXV 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 

“ IVe just seen about the maddest man in town,” 
exclaimed Ned, gleefully, as he came into the front 
room in the Finn house, where he and Raymond had 
taken up their residence a few days before at the 
beginning of their senior year at Krampton. 

Raymond laid aside the book he was reading by the 
open Franklin fire, and turned to his roommate with 
an inquiring smile. 

“ It was down in front of the Coe house,” continued 
Ned. “ A man named Salley had driven his son there 
to set him up in housekeeping. They came from over 
beyond Ashton somewhere, I believe. The horse they 
drove looked as if he hadn’t seen anything but wheat 
straw to eat, and brook water to drink, for the past 
two years. You could count every bone in his body. 
While the old gentleman was up-stairs some of the 
boys got a few slabs from Deacon Gorman’s wood- 
pile, and propped the old nag up on either side. Per- 
haps Mr. Salley wasn’t mad when he came down and 
saw the situation. He was roaring round like a bull 
of Bashan when I went by. I’ll bet you could have 
heard him a mile. He wanted to fight some one so 
332 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 333 

badly that I went by on the other side of the street, 
for fear he might want to take it out on me.” 

Raymond smiled, a little gravely. “ It seems to me 
that the boys might have been in better business,” he 
said, “ though certainly Mr. Salley isn’t smoothing the 
future for his boy by his way of taking the prank.” 

“ Just what I was thinking,” laughed Ned, “ but, 
say, you ought to see that boy! A great, tall, long- 
armed fellow — all eyes and ears. Looks as solemn 
as an owl.” 

“ He might be excused for not seeing any real humor 
in the horse joke,” said Raymond, dryly. “ What’s 
his name ? ” 

“ Zachariah.” 

“ ‘ He did climb a tree,’ ” repeated Raymond, absent- 
mindedly. 

“ Read your New England primer again,” said Ned. 
“ That was ‘ Zaccheus.’ I must do Zack the justice, 
though, to say that the gyrations of his worthy parent 
appeared to make him a trifle tired.” 

“ Which the boys should certainly charge up to his 
credit,” was Raymond’s comment, as he resumed his 
book. 

Life at the Finn house was just beginning to grow 
attractive to Raymond and Ned. It had been a little 
hard at first, after a long summer spent amid the 
delights of Chestnut, where they had renewed old 
acquaintances and fished together, a part of the time 
in company with Raymond’s father, all the leading 


334 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

trout brooks of that region, to settle back into the 
routine channels of school life. 

There were four rooms on the second floor of the 
Finn house — two on each side of a central hallway. 
The Widow Finn, a motherly woman, who had raised 
a large family of her own boys, took a personal pride 
in her roomers, and was very patient with their out- 
breaks of boyish exuberance. 

It was a great pleasure to Ned to find included in 
this household circle Silas Akers and Hartley Pember, 
who had returned to Krampton for a course in the 
Commercial college. 

Raymond and Ned occupied one of the front cham- 
bers; and Akers and Barlow the other. One of the 
rooms across the hallway was taken by Hartley Pember 
and his brother. The other was occupied by Charlie 
Hoyle and a new boy named Joshua Lake, who had 
entered the senior class. 

Not much was known concerning Lake. He talked 
very little of his own affairs, but from what he dropped 
it appeared that he was an only child, and had pursued 
his studies largely under private tutors. He was tall 
and well built, with frank brown eyes, sharply cut 
features, and a shapely head, with high, full forehead 
surmounted by a heavy growth of slightly curly hair. 
While he said but little concerning himself, he was an 
eager and sympathetic listener, who appeared to derive 
no end of pleasure from the conversation of his com- 
panions. Lake rarely indulged in a hearty laugh, but 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 


335 


there was contagious merriment in his twinkling eyes 
and quiet chuckles. Diffident and retiring in many 
ways, especially where the young ladies were concerned, 
he took a world of satisfaction in his associations at 
the Finn house, and was devotedly loyal to his friends. 

All the roomers at the Finn house took their meals 
at the Holt house, a two-story structure nearly oppo- 
site the Academy grounds, which was noted for the 
excellence of its table. 

Ned Grover, mindful of the duties that rested upon 
him as captain of the football eleven, lost no time in 
getting his squad into active training. Through the 
cooperation of Cy Devons he was able to secure the 
services of Tom Bannock as coach from the start. 
While the graduation of Wiswell, Raney, Veasie, 
Densor, and Moker had made quite a hole in the team, 
this was partly offset by the acquisition of Silas Akers, 
whose splendid physique and knowledge of the game 
made him a tower of strength to the eleven. The 
appearance of Edwin Burton, the big center of the 
Lynn High School eleven, was also most opportune, 
supplying the place of Dutchy Morse, who had given 
up his Academy course to go into business with his 
father. Charlie Hoyle was changed from left half- 
back to quarterback, where his cool head and punting 
abilities enabled him fully to fill the place made vacant 
by Veasie’s graduation. 

Allen Pember, who had taken little part in the prac- 
tice of the team the year before, now joined the squad, 


336 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

and proved himself a most promising player, as did 
also Burl Marden, a new student who had been a sub- 
stitute the previous season on the Exeter team. The 
one place that gave Captain Grover and Coach Bannock 
the most anxiety was left tackle, where Raney had 
played a star game; but here, as is frequently the case 
in football, the unexpected happened. Zack Salley, 
whose verdancy and solemn self-conceit had rendered 
him a “ mark ” for his fellow students, and whose 
innocence in the classroom was a standing joke in the 
Academy, developed an unexpected enthusiasm for 
football, and a surprising ability to master its fine 
points. His sprinting powers, sturdy tenacity, and 
enormous strength made him a formidable line man, 
and when he was finally given the place at left tackle 
every student was ready to concede that it had been 
fairly won. 

A newcomer at Krampton, Leigh Flynn, was given 
the vacant position at right guard. He was a strong, 
cordy fellow, who had played the game on a high school 
team before coming to the Academy, and who proved 
himself a strong and reliable player. 

The team soon showed a confidence that came from 
experience, and developed a form in play that had been 
unknown to the eleven of the previous year. 

When the opening game came with Tillville the 
Krampton line-up was as follows: 

Ned Grover (Capt.), r. e.; Irving Wing, r. t.; 
Leigh Flynn, r. g. ; Edwin Burton, center ; Silas Akers, 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 


337 


1. g. ; Zack Salley, 1. t. ; Donald Barlow, 1. e. ; Charlie 
Hoyle, q. b. ; Allen Pember, r. h. b.; Burl Marden, 
1. h. b. ; Raymond Benson, f. b. 

The game was hotly contested, but Krampton’s 
superior skill and brawn carried the day, the score 
standing 1 2 to 6 in her favor. 

This was the beginning of a record which was to 
be pointed to with pride by Krampton students for 
many years to come, the eleven going through the 
entire season without a single defeat. 

After the close of the football season there was a 
period in which a spirit of unrest seemed to pervade 
the Academy. This finally culminated in a bonfire 
made of tar barrels at the forks of the road, which, 
with the prompt alarm of fire that was given by the 
students on the “ inside,” routed the whole village out 
of bed in the small hours of the morning. The tall 
flames lit up the heavens with a fierce glow, and, with 
the tumult of the church and Academy bells, served 
to bring in farmers from miles around, under the 
impression that a conflagration was sweeping away the 
whole village. 

In the midst of the confusion and excitement, Uncle 
Joe Pilgren was observed hastening up the street with 
a five-quart pail of water in one hand, and a long- 
handled tin dipper in the other. His unexpected 
appearance, thus armed for the fray, called forth a 
burst of laughter, in which the disgusted townspeople 
found relaxation and relief from the vexation and 


338 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

chagrin that came with the discovery of the imposition 
which had been practiced upon them. 

When the inmates of the Finn house, in various 
degrees of dishabille that had harmonized well with 
their apparent innocence and amazement, as they min- 
gled with the crowd and viewed the roaring flames, 
were once more gathered in Raymond and Ned’s room, 
they were still laughing over the spectacular appearance 
of Uncle Joe, which overshadowed all other features 
of what was henceforth known as “ the big fire.” 

“ Uncle Joe always maintains his presence of mind 
at a conflagration,” chuckled Hartley Pember. “ Do 
you know he regards himself as Krampton’s great 
natural fireman? I remember when Mr. Pickering’s 
house caught fire during my first winter term at Kramp- 
ton. The students turned to and worked like beavers. 
As a result of their efforts the building was saved with 
comparatively small loss. Of course the furniture was 
lugged out, and right there Uncle Joe shone resplen- 
dent. He dashed up-stairs to the front room, seized 
a couple of pens and a pencil from Mr. Pickering’s 
desk. Then he waded up the sidehill back of the house, 
deposited them carefully in a snowdrift, and returned 
in the cheerful consciousness of duty fully performed.” 

“ He was a good deal like the fellow who threw 
the looking-glass out the chamber window, and lugged 
the feather pillows down the front stairs,” said Ned. 

“ Did you see Prof. McCleery ? ” broke in Charlie 
Hoyle, somewhat irrelevantly. 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 


339 


“No,” said Raymond. “ What about him?” 

Charlie indulged a low chuckle. 

“ Something will drop if he gets on the inside of 
this affair,” he declared. “ I never saw him in a 
greater rage. Bet he ran his fingers through his hair 
about twenty times a minute.” 

It may be said, however, that the Principal’s inves- 
tigations, if he in fact conducted any, were without 
result, and the whole affair was soon lost sight of in 
the pressure of other and later interests. 

Not long after this a Saturday afternoon found 
Raymond and Ned at Dicksville. Here they ran in 
with Akers, Barlow, and Hartley Pember. At the 
suggestion of Barlow the entire party made its way 
to a photographer’s gallery for the purpose of having 
a group photograph taken. In a spirit of fun Hartley 
Pember suggested that they make it “ a tough crowd.” 
The accommodating artist, quick to enter into the spirit 
of the occasion, promptly wheeled a small table into 
the center of his operating room. Upon this he placed 
a bottle about half full of some dark-colored chemical. 
This he surrounded with glasses. A pack of cards 
was then produced, and Raymond, Ned, Pember, and 
Barlow were ranged about the table as if engaged in 
an exciting game. 

Akers, who had never smoked in his life, was tilted 
back in a big chair, his heels resting upon the table, 
his hat drawn rakishly over one ear — and a cigar 
protruding from the corner of his mouth. The result 


340 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

was a photograph “ tough ” enough to fulfil all expec- 
tations. 

Raymond gazed at it a little regretfully when it 
reached him by mail a week later. 

“ I’m sorry we had it taken/’ he said to Ned, as he 
hid it away in a corner of his trunk. 

“Why?” demanded Ned. 

“ It wouldn’t be a very good advertisement for any 
of us if it were to fall into the hands of strangers.” 

“Fiddlesticks!” was Ned’s impatient comment. 
“ You’re altogether too thin-skinned, old man. Nobody 
is going to turn this group over to a stranger, and 
our friends would know that it was only a lark.” 

“ I should feel better,” said Raymond, somewhat 
reassured, “ if you and I were the only ones in it. 
Five is something of a crowd.” 

“ 4 Let not your heart be troubled,’ ” laughed Ned. 
“ You will never hear from it.” 

Raymond made no reply, and the incident was soon 
forgotten. 

A few evenings later a levee was given in the Chapel 
hall, which Raymond and Ned attended, in company 
with Miss Sadie Quincy and Miss May Bavis. The 
occasion was a very social and pleasant one, which 
was thoroughly enjoyed by all who participated in it. 

The Finn house boys, who had never known Josh 
Lake to evince the slightest interest in a young lady, 
were thoroughly dum founded to see him put in an 
appearance with Annie Waters, a new girl, and one 


li = * 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 


341 


of the prettiest in the Academy. Later in the evening 
when they were all gathered in Raymond and Ned’s 
room to talk matters over, they undertook to chaff him 
a little on his sudden transformation into a ladies’ 
man, Ned solemnly assuring him that the conversion 
of Saul was not to be compared with it. 

A quiet smile, however, was Lake’s only response 
to their banter, and he soon retired to his room. 

A little later his roommate, Charlie Hoyle, came in 
and was at once importuned to explain the wonderful 
change in Lake. 

“ He was trapped into that,” was the mysterious 
response. 

Immediately the members of the group, scenting a 
story, were all attention. 

“ Tell us all about it, old man,” cried Raymond, 
eagerly. 

“ Go ahead,” came in chorus from the others. 

“ It all happened about a week ago,” laughed Hoyle. 
“ I’d been nagging Josh about the obligation resting 
upon every male member of the senior class to escort 
a young lady to the levee. I suggested that Miss 
Waters was just the partner he wanted. Finally, in 
a spirit of fun, he wrote out an invitation in Greek, 
and asked me how that would do? I made some 
joking reply, and Josh evidently dismissed the matter 
from his mind. I took that invitation very carefully, 
however, and mailed it to Miss Waters. I also 
dropped a note to her roommate, Fannie Parlin, sug- 


342 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

gesting the purport of it, for I was a little dubious 
how good they might prove at translation, or whether, 
indeed, they might think it worth translating at all. 
All the girls at the Asylum appeared to enter into the 
humor of the thing. May Bavis, Sadie Quincy, Dottie 
Boyden, and a number of the others held a council of 
war on the invitation, and, by pledging Miss Waters 
never to lisp a word of the whole matter, they per- 
suaded her to accept the invitation in a dainty little 
note written in French. Miss Parlin sent me an 
English version of it, and when Josh asked me if I 
was posted in French, of course I was way up in G. 
Naturally the note was given me to translate. 

“ Josh was just a little dazed when I laid the results 
of my scholarship before him, and confessed to having 
forwarded his Greek note. At first he declared it was 
all a joke, anyway; but I assured him that the young 
lady had taken it in good faith, and that he would be 
the laughing-stock of the whole school if he failed to 
come to time like a man. That brought him, though 
I afterwards learned that he took the precaution to 
submit his note privately for confirmation to Mr. 
Bisson, a French gentleman who lives near the fish- 
pond. That settled it. The effort was like pulling 
teeth, and Josh was a little pale and nervous the first 
part of the evening; but he carried it through like a 
drum major — and that’s how he came to be at the 
levee. On the whole, fellows, I suspect he’s glad he 
went.” 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 


343 


A gust of laughter and good-natured comment 
greeted this narrative, soon after which the boys sep- 
arated and retired to their rooms. 

The following Saturday afternoon Raymond was 
making a few purchases at the Academy book-store 
when Sam Denton, whose father and mother ran the 
ladies’ boarding-house known as the Asylum, entered 
the store, his face wreathed in smiles. 

Raymond looked at him with sympathetic inquiry. 

“ Something seems to have amused you, Sam,” he 
insinuated. 

“ Well, I guess,” giggled Sam. “ Our sitting- 
room’s right back of the reception-room, you know. 
Of course the sliding doors are closed and the portieres 
drawn, still it isn’t very hard to hear what’s said on 
either side.” He paused and looked at Raymond with 
mirthful eyes. “ Josh Lake is calling on Miss Waters,” 
he announced, abruptly. 

Comprehension shone in Raymond’s eyes. He took 
Denton by the arm, and drew him one side. “ What 
did he say?” he asked, confidentially. 

Again Denton broke into a succession of giggles. 
“ Oh, it’s too funny,” he gasped, controlling his voice 
with an effort. “ I guess Lake hasn’t sparked round 
the girls much, has he ? ” 

“ So brilliant a scholar as he is couldn’t have many 
interests outside his books,” returned Raymond, cau- 
tiously. 

“ I thought so,” assented Denton. “ It was just a 


344 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMBTON 

little hard for him to get under way. He hesitated a 
while, then he says, ‘ This must be a pretty old house.’ 
‘ Yes,’ says she, “ one of the oldest in the village, I 
think.’ ‘ But not so old I guess as the Finn house,’ 
he added. ‘ Quite likely not,’ says she. * I rather 
guess the Holt house is older than either of them,’ he 
went on. ‘ I shouldn’t be a bit surprised,’ says she. 
Then there was a long silence, after which she opened 
up the subject of football, and matters appeared to go 
a little easier.” 

A change came over Raymond’s countenance, and 
Denton fairly shivered under the contemptuous stern- 
ness of his glance. 

“ Denton,” he said, sharply, “ I’m astounded at you. 
You have betrayed a sacred confidence; you have taken 
unfair advantage of your position to tell what should 
never have been told. It’s indecent, it’s shameful, it’s 
— it’s dastardly.” 

“I — I — didn’t think it would be any harm to — 
to tell you,” stammered Denton, a trifle dazed at this 
sudden turn of affairs. 

“ Perhaps not,” said Raymond, a little doubtfully, 
“ but if you should tell any one else it would simply 
be infamous. Do you hear me — infamous ! ” 

“ Oh, I’ll never say another word about it,” pro- 
tested Denton. “ I won’t, ’pon my soul.” 

“ See that you don’t,” admonished Raymond, as he 
turned on his heel and left the store. 

A little later, as he sat writing at the study table 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 


345 


in his room, the door opened and Lake entered. He 
was dressed in his Sunday best, and was evidently 
feeling well satisfied with himself and the world. 

He stood for a moment warming his hands at the 
fire, while Raymond went on with his writing without 
looking up at him. This obliviousness seemed to nettle 
Lake, and he was about to leave the room, when Ray- 
mond laid down his pen and faced him. 

“ Josh,” he said, “ this is a pretty old house, but 
not so old I guess as the Asylum, and I rather think 
the Holt house is older than either of them.” 

With the first words Lake stood gazing at him with 
startled eyes and open mouth, the color in his face 
alternately coming and going. 

“ Where have you been ? ” he gasped. 

“ Oh, floating around generally — in the spirit,” 
returned Raymond, carelessly. 

Lake paced up and down the room in obvious 
agitation. 

“ Benson,” he said, pausing in front of Raymond 
in very evident distress. “ I don’t know how you 
became possessed of the information you have just 
indicated. I don’t know that I much care; but I had 
rather give fifty dollars than have this go any further. 
This whole matter has been hard enough, any way,” 
he groaned, after a pause, “ and I simply couldn’t stand 
the ridicule such a revelation would invite.” 

Raymond was touched. 

“ Forgive me, Josh,” he said, extending his hand to 


346 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

Lake. “ I cannot tell you how I got hold of this 
matter; but I think I have made sure that it will go 
no further. You must overlook my little pleasantry, 
old man.” 

“ Don’t mention it,” said Lake, with a sigh of relief. 
He paused a moment a little wistfully in the doorway. 

“ Don’t think me over-sensitive, Benson,” he said. 
“ I can stand a little codding on other things. I expect 
to take my share; but this — this, you know, would 
make me appear vapid, — er — ridiculous.” 

“ Oh, not so bad as that, old man,” smiled Raymond. 
“ But don’t give the matter another thought. It will 
go no further. Here’s my hand on it.” 

Lake cordially grasped the proffered hand. He 
knew that Raymond would keep faith with him, and 
that, so far at least as they two were concerned, the 
incident was closed. 

The epidemic of mischief appeared to be wearing 
itself out, or as Professor McCleery grimly observed, 
“ the high pressure was getting relieved.” The Kramp- 
ton Principal had rather a broad view of boys, and 
under his somewhat grizzled exterior had a warm 
corner in his heart for all of them. “ There’s about 
so much steam in a live boy,” he observed to Elder 
Burdock, as they walked up the village street together, 
when the latter was disposed to take a sombre view 
of the situation, “ and it’s got to find a vent some- 
where. I can have considerable patience with a boy’s 
pranks, so long as I know that his habits are temperate, 


A CHAPTER OF INCIDENT 


347 


and there is nothing vicious about him. In fact, I’d 
a good deal rather have a mischievous boy than no 
boy at all. The only boy I cannot and will not tolerate 
is the one who drinks liquor.” He paused, and his 
square jaws set together with a look of rigorous deter- 
mination. For a moment they walked on in silence. 
As they separated at the entrance to the Academy 
grounds, the Principal stopped and roused himself 
from his reverie. 

“ When I find a boy who is addicted to that habit,” 
he said, running his fingers with a jerky movement 
through the thick hair that tumbled in wild confusion 
about his forehead, “ I’m willing to give him one good 
talking to, and a chance to reform. If he doesn’t 
improve it he must go. I owe it to the other pupils 
to protect them from the menace of such an example.” 

He paused, and the Elder looked at him with twink- 
ling eyes. 

“ Even that rule has its exceptions, I fancy,” he said, 
reflectively. “ In Shumpter’s case, for instance.” 

“ Shumpter ! ” grunted the Principal, scornfully. “ A 
brute! Insulted good old Deacon Gorman where he 
roomed — bullied boys smaller than himself — referred 
to his father and mother in his conversation with me 
as the ‘ old man ’ and the ‘ old woman.’ A good deal 
can sometimes be done to put a boy on the safe track, 
if his heart is in the right place; but I tell you, Burdock, 
a boy who speaks disrespectfully* of his father and 
mother is simply too rotten to nail to,” — and turning 


34-8 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

abruptly he left the Elder to continue on his way up 
the street, while he strode, with quick, nervous energy, 
up the gravelly walk leading to Chapel Hall. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


/ 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFRY 

Professor McCleery was a trifle over-sanguine in 
believing that the spirit of mischief and unrest that 
followed the close of the football season had finally 
quieted down, and that nothing further was to divert 
the undergraduate attention from the ordinary chan- 
nels of school routine. 

A few mornings after his conversation with Elder 
Burdock he was awakened at an early hour by the 
mysterious ringing of the bell in the steeple of the 
village church. Hastily dressing himself, he hurried 
into the street, where he found a small group of 
townspeople already assembled, under the impression 
that a fire was in progress somewhere. The cause of 
the alarm, however, was speedily discovered. Tied 
to the clapper of the bell was a solemn-looking goat, 
with long, patriarchal whiskers. The poor animal was 
evidently bewildered and frightened by his unusual 
surroundings. As he moved forward to peer cau- 
tiously through the railing of the belfry upon the roofs 
of the houses in the street below, the ponderous clang 
of the big bell would wake the morning echoes and 
cause him to leap back and forth in frantic terror, until, 
349 


350 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

exhausted by his efforts, he crouched, cowed and quiv- 
ering, beneath the reverberating dome. 

With each return of strength, however, he would 
repeat the same performance — apparently gaining 
neither confidence nor wisdom from his previous expe- 
riences. 

Professor McCleery’s wrath, always fiercest when 
first aroused, blazed forth in righteous indignation. 

“ This is brutal ! disgraceful ! contemptible ! ” he 
panted, unmindful of the broad grins which some of 
the townspeople were at little pains to conceal. 

A moment later Uncle Joe Pilgren, the sexton, who 
had been hastily summoned from his morning slum- 
bers, came hobbling up the street with the church keys. 

He stood for a moment, craning his neck and 
shading his eyes with his hands, to get the full import 
of the scene in the belfry, before his astonishment and 
indignation found vent in words. 

“ Land o’ Goshen ! ” he wheezed, in a tone of 
genuine concern, “ I can’t never git that goat down 
in this ’ere world. My rheumatiz has been a botherin’ 
of me all the fall.” 

“ Hire a balloon,” suggested some wag in the crowd, 
but Uncle Joe did not deign to notice him. 

“ That poor critter’s got to be fetched down some- 
how,” he said, appealing to the crowd. “ If I knowed 
who put ’im up there I’d — I’d have the law on ’im. 
I would, sure’s you’re born.” 

“ The obligation appears to be on you, Joseph,” 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFREY 35 1 

remarked Dr. Kidd, the village physician, with a 
serious face. “ You’re the sexton, aren’t you?” 

“ Sartin, sartin,” returned the old man, garrulously, 
“ but this ’ere ain’t any part o’ my work. I sha’n’t 
do it, nuther,” he added, with rising inflection. 

The doctor was about to make some further remark; 
but a glance at the frowning face of the Krampton 
Principal, who was evidently in no mood for levity, 
led him to change his mind, and he withdrew from 
the crowd, chuckling softly to himself. 

“ I should think them as did the mischief should 
foot the bills. Let the Academy pay for it,” declared 
Squire Burnham, from the outer edge of the group. 

Uncle Joe caught at the suggestion like a drowning 
man at a straw. “ Why, o’ course ! Sartinly ! ” he 
exclaimed, rubbing his thin hands together with satis- 
faction. “ The Academy should remove that ’ere goat 
by all means.” 

For the first time Professor McCleery’s features 
relaxed, and a gleam of humor shone in his eyes. 

“ I presume, Joseph, that you are prepared to prove 
that Academy students put him there?” he said, turn- 
ing to Uncle Joe. 

The worthy sexton was somewhat disconcerted by 
this inquiry. 

“ Why, I didn’t see ’em do it,” he said, slowly, “ but 
then, land sakes alive, don’t it stand to reason that it 
was them ? ” 

“ It strikes me that it might be rather difficult to 


352 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

prove just who did do it,” commented the Principal, 
dryly. 

“ Possibly ! possibly ! ” returned the old sexton. 
“ Still, I’d like nothin’ better, however, than to draw 
a jury from the townspeople in this crowd, an’ let 
’em decide that question.” 

A laugh greeted this assertion. 

“ You needn’t go to that trouble,” said Professor 
McCleery, with just the suspicion of a smile about 
his mouth. “ I’ll undertake to see that the goat is 
removed.” 

“ And I think I can do it, sir,” said Silas Akers, 
elbowing his way through the crowd. 

Laughter and applause greeted this announcement. 

“ I’m very much obliged to you, Akers,” said the 
Principal, warmly, “ but I don’t wish you to take any 
risks.” 

“No risk at all, I assure you, sir,” was the smiling 
response. “ I should like two or three of the boys to 
assist me, however.” Several of the students promptly 
volunteered their services. Uncle Joe hastened for- 
ward to unlock the door, and presently the whole party 
were in the belfry. Here the crowd waiting below 
saw Akers remove a broad leather belt which he wore 
around his waist, and attached to one side of which 
was a strong iron ring. In a few minutes the belt 
was buckled tightly about the shivering goat. The 
long bell-rope was drawn up to the belfry and the 
lower end tied securely to the iron ring. It was then 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFREY 353 

a comparatively easy task to lower the animal to the 
ground floor. 

When the goat was once more loose upon the street, 
where, as the result of a peaceable disposition, his 
owner, the local stage-driver, who was as yet in igno- 
rance of his belfry experience, had permitted him to 
roam at will, Professor McCleery, who had watched 
the operation in silence, turned and walked thought- 
fully away to his house. 

The students at the Academy naturally expected 
that a rigid investigation would follow this episode; 
but, strange to say, nothing further was heard from 
it. It might, naturally, have occurred to the worthy 
Principal that a rigging which proved of so much value 
in lowering the goat to the ground, might, possibly, 
have been used to equal advantage in elevating him 
to the belfry. 

An inquiry of the village shoemaker might also have 
thrown some light upon the matter; but none was ever 
made. 

Several weeks later the members of the Social 
Brotherhood were in the midst of their regular weekly 
meeting, and Hartley Pember was just beginning to 
read the “ paper ” in which wisdom and wit — largely 
in the form of “ grinds ” — were supposed to exist in 
about equal proportions, when the door opened, and 
two ladies dressed in old-fashioned garments, their 
faces hidden in the depths of enormous poke bonnets, 
walked demurely up the center aisle, and took a front 


354 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


seat. As ladies were not supposed to be present at 
these meetings, it is, perhaps, needless to say that their 
appearance was the occasion of no little excitement, 
and President Barlow was obliged to pound vigorously 
with his gavel in order to suppress the titter that ran 
through the hall. 

“ The society will please be in order/’ he said, 
sternly. “ Proceed with the exercises.” 

Pember, who had paused irresolutely upon the 
appearance of the unexpected visitors, fancied that he 
detected in their garments certain ancient articles of 
wearing apparel that he had seen in the attic of the 
Finn house. A friendly wave of her hand by one of 
the lady visitors confirmed his suspicions. He mentally 
congratulated Mrs. Finn on her success in make-up, 
while his face relaxed into a broad grin that told the 
members present that at least one of their number 
had established the identity of their strange visitors. 

There was a prompt counting of noses, followed 
by a chorus of laughter, when it was discovered that 
Raymond Benson and Ned Grover were not in their 
accustomed places. 

The reading of the paper was of interest chiefly in 
its effects upon the critics of the front seat. To some 
parts of it they nodded a gracious approval; at others 
they held up their hands in well-simulated horror, 
indulging at the same time in whispered conferences 
and ominous shakes of the head. 

Presently they arose and made their way down the 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFREY 355 

aisle. Their progress was unimpeded until they were 
near the door, when Silas Akers suddenly thrust his 
face into the bonnet of the one ahead and gave her a 
resounding smack — a proceeding which called forth 
shouts of laughter. 

For a moment after the door had closed on the 
departing visitors, the members of the society sat as 
if spellbound. Then, as if by a common impulse, they 
jumped from their seats and started in pursuit of them. 
Charlie Hoyle, who was nearest the door, jumped up 
the broad stairway leading to the Chapel hall, calling 
lustily, “ This way, fellows ! This way ! ” 

In a moment the crowd was at his heels; but their 
search, though long and thorough, was a fruitless one. 

Meanwhile Raymond and Ned, for the reader has, 
doubtless, divined the identity of the two visitors, had 
taken advantage of this diversion, due entirely to 
Hoyle’s quick wit, to make their escape from the 
building by way of the ladies’ entrance. With skirts 
tucked under their arms, they raced breathlessly down 
the village street, Ned well in the lead, and were soon 
safe from all possible pursuit. 

As he neared the Finn house, Raymond recognized 
in the bright moonlight the peculiar hobble of Uncle 
Joe Pilgren, slowly making his way up the street for 
his evening session with the village statesmen who 
congregated at Squire Burnham’s store. 

The opportunity to indulge in a little impromptu 
flirting was too good to be lost. Hastily dropping his 


35^ RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

skirts, he waited until Uncle Joe was nearly opposite 
him, and then, spreading his fan, he edged coyly up 
to him, with a sidelong glance, and a motion as if to 
embrace him. 

To say that the old sexton was horrified would be 
stating it mildly. He backed wildly away from the 
sidewalk, until his further progress was stopped by 
a big maple tree, and raised his cane in an attitude of 
defense. 

“ Go ’way, ye shameless woman ! go ’way ! Don’t 
pester me, I tell ye. I’ll — I’ll have the law on ye,” 
he shouted, in quavering tones. 

“ Outrageous man ! ” said Raymond, in a falsetto 
voice, drawing himself up with stately dignity, “ would 
you strike a defenceless woman? Oh, I see! I see, 
you cruel, cruel man, you mean to rob me — you want 
my purse. Spare me! Spare me! Take it. Help! 
Help ! ” and thrusting an old wallet into the trembling 
hand of the dazed and speechless old man he sped 
swiftly on his way to the Finn house. 

Here he found Ned relating the events of the 
evening to good Mrs. Finn who, as Pember suspected, 
had assisted them in donning their disguises. Ray- 
mond could not resist the temptation to add his experi- 
ence with Uncle Joe Pilgren to Ned’s narrative, the 
good landlady agreeing, while her voice choked with 
laughter and the tears rolled down her cheeks, that it 
should go no further. 

Strange to say Uncle Joe kept his own counsel 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFREY 357 

regarding his adventure with the strange woman, and 
a few evenings later, when a student, who chanced to 
be in Squire Burnham’s store, told how Raymond 
Benson and Ned Grover had dressed up as old ladies 
and attended the Socii meeting, a great light broke 
in upon the mind of at least one silent but eager 
listener. 

A day or two later Raymond received a package 
through the mails, which proved to contain the well- 
worn wallet, which he had dug up from the debris in 
the Finn house attic, and which he had so unexpectedly 
thrust into Uncle Joe’s hand. 

On opening it he found enclosed a crisp, new, dollar 
bill, and a note which read as follows: 

“ Dear Mr. Benson : 

“ It’s bin some years since I went to a playhouse. 
I believe it cost me a dollar. The play you give me 
Friday night was jest as good, and a pesky sight more 
exciting. It was well worth the money. 

“ Your friend, 

“ Joseph Pilgren.” 

“ What do you think of it ? ” asked Raymond, pass- 
ing the note to Ned, who read it with a smiling face. 

“ That old boy’s a brick, Rame,” was Ned’s enthusi- 
astic comment, as he handed it back. 

“ Exactly my verdict,” laughed Raymond, as he 
folded up the note, and carefully replaced it in the 
wallet. 


358 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

New school pranks rarely lack imitators, and two 
or three weeks later Zack Salley and Bill Copen, 
blacked up as negroes and dressed like minstrels, put 
in an appearance at the Literii meeting. But the 
members, a number of whom had been present at the 
Socii meeting when Raymond and Ned had masquer- 
aded, were quite ready to receive them. Nearly every 
one took a hand in tripping them, as they passed up 
the aisle, and their tall hats were pounded over their 
ears before they had covered half the distance. 

When they endeavored to leave the hall before the 
close of the exercises they were very promptly placed 
under arrest. It was then solemnly voted that each 
of the colored gentlemen who had favored the meeting 
with their presence should contribute to the entertain- 
ment of those in attendance by singing a song, dancing 
a clog, or telling a story. It was further voted that, 
failing to do any of these things, the said darkies 
should be taken out to the pump and divested of their 
color. 

After some hesitation Copen, who had a good voice, 
mounted the platform, and sang a song. In vain 
Salley protested that he could neither sing, dance, nor 
tell a story, while the perspiration rolled down his 
cheeks, washing furrows in the burnt cork. It began 
to look as if nothing could save him from the pump, 
when Copen generously volunteered to sing a song 
for his brother. The substitute was accepted, and 
Salley thus escaped what would, otherwise, undoubt- 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFREY 359 

edly have been a lively and not altogether pleasant 
experience. 

The fate of Copen and Salley, while it afforded 
great sport for those who attended the meeting, proved 
very effectual in putting an end to this form of amuse- 
ment. 

The fall term was wearing to a close when another 
episode occurred which for a time occasioned quite a 
flurry of excitement. Across the hallway from the 
Chapel was a sunny corner apartment used as a gentle- 
men’s reading-room. Here a number of the boys had 
been accustomed to congregate a few minutes before 
prayers. The faculty had no objection to this, so long 
as they came for the purpose of reading the news- 
papers and periodicals, and were willing to conduct 
themselves in a quiet and orderly manner. 

When, however, the place developed into a kind of 
clubroom, with scuffling, shouting, and boisterous 
laughter, they felt that, in the interests of good disci- 
pline, it was time to draw the line. 

This Professor McCleery did, in his characteristic 
way, one evening at prayers. He stated that such 
conduct defeated the purposes of the room, inasmuch 
as it was impossible for any one to read in such 
an uproar. Moreover, boisterousness and horse-play, 
which were utterly out of place in a reading-room at 
any time, were specially reprehensible at a time when 
the school was assembling for Divine Worship. He 
therefore took occasion to give fair warning that if 


360 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

such practices continued the reading-room would be 
locked. 

Now the gentlemen’s reading-room at Krampton, 
aside from the newspapers and periodicals contributed 
by the publishers, was sustained by the contributions 
of the male students, who were organized into a 
Reading-Room Association for its management and 
support. 

This fact had given them a sense of ownership in 
the reading-room that did not apply to other depart- 
ments of the Academy. Professor McCleery’s threat 
to close it up was therefore the occasion of consider- 
able indignant discussion among the boys. A few of 
the cooler-headed ones acknowledged the justice of the 
Principal’s position, while the others asserted, with 
considerable vehemence, that it would be a high-handed 
invasion of their rights. 

For a few days after the Principal’s warning there 
was no recurrence of the disturbance. Then matters 
gradually drifted back into the old channels. One 
afternoon, about a week later, when the usual crowd 
made its way to the reading-room, it found, to its 
consternation, that the Principal’s threat had been 
carried out, and the door was locked. An indignation 
meeting was held in the hallway; but as it was cold 
there, the boys soon found their way into the Chapel, 
where the wait for the exercises to begin was decidedly 
irksome. 

“ I call it pretty tough to pay for papers and maga- 


THE GOAT IN THE RELFREY 36 1 

zines, and then not have the privilege of reading them,” 
said Orville Parker, angrily, as he and Raymond 
walked down the street together after prayers. 

“ Easy, easy,” said a voice behind them, and Silas 
Akers stepped between them, placing a friendly hand 
on the arm of each. “ I don’t see what there is to be 
done, except to grin and bear it.” 

Raymond glanced around to see if any one was near 
them. 

“ Or remove that lock,” he added, in a low tone. 

Akers gave him an approving slap on the shoulder. 

“ Great head ! ” he said, admiringly. “ How shall 
we do it? ” 

“ Easy enough,” declared Raymond. “ One of us 
must hide in a recitation-room after the Socii meeting 
to-night. Then after the janitor has put out the lights 
and locked the outside doors, he can slip back into 
the Society hall, open one of the windows, and climb 
out through it. He can then close it again, and it 
will be all ready to raise when we want to get in about 
midnight. We shall want to wait until every one in 
the village is in bed.” 

“How were you planning to get the lock off?” 
asked Akers. “ You know I haven’t had much experi- 
ence as a burglar,” he added, whimsically. 

“ Why, I hadn’t thought much about that,” returned 
Raymond. “ How would it do to bore a hole just 
behind it, and work round it with a keyhole saw ? ” 

“ Too hard,” said Parker. “ I’ve a skeleton key in 


362 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

my room, a legacy from Imp Biffins, that will, I am 
very sure, fit that lock nicely.” 

“ So much the better,” said Raymond. " Then we 
can open the door and remove the lock with an ordinary 
screw-driver.” 

“ I think we better meet at Parker’s room about 
twelve o’clock to-night,” suggested Akers. “ He has 
a front room on the first floor at Deacon Gorman’s, 
and it will be easy getting in and out there without 
attracting attention. I’ll look after the window in the 
Society hall. Mighty lucky, isn’t it, that it’s on the 
first floor? ” 

“ I’ve got a strip of black cambric at my room,” 
said Parker, “ and I’ll fix up some masks.” 

“ And I’ll bring my little dark lantern,” added Akers. 

“ I don’t see but that we are fully equipped,” laughed 
Raymond. 

Everything was carried out as planned. Ned, who 
marvelled a little at his roommate’s unusual interest 
in his Greek lesson, retired at eleven o’clock, leaving 
Raymond still up, and was sound asleep at midnight 
when the latter put out the lights and stole softly away, 
through a fine sifting snow-storm, to join Akers and 
Parker. 

Soon after all three were at the reading-room 
door, fully masked and carrying a screw-driver, which 
Parker had secured for the occasion from Deacon 
Gorman’s tool-chest. 

Parker’s skeleton key opened the reading-room door 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFREY 


363 


readily, and it was not a long task to remove the lock. 
Raymond had just slipped it into his overcoat pocket, 
when he was startled by the quick grating of the dark 
lantern slide, as it shot across the bull's eye, leaving 
them in utter darkness. 

Almost immediately an arm was thrown about his 
shoulders, and the voice of the janitor, Edward Ker- 
bun, who roomed in the bell room on the third floor, 
exclaimed excitedly in his ear: 

“ I've got you." 

As Kerbun said this he reached forward with his 
free hand to strike a match against the wall, but with 
the first flicker, Akers, who had extinguished the dark 
lantern and stowed it in his pocket, reached forward 
a long arm and put out the blaze. The three boys 
then closed with Kerbun, and throwing him upon the 
floor sat down upon him to hold a council of war. 
All of them appreciated the fact that their rashness 
had drawn them into a very serious scrape, which 
might, perhaps, result in their expulsion from the 
school. 

The now thoroughly frightened janitor endeavored 
to call for help, but Akers clapped a big hand over 
his mouth, and effectually shut off his cries. 

“ Climb out. I’ll look after him," whispered Akers, 
and Raymond and Parker were prompt to act on his 
suggestion. 

In a moment they had slid down the big banister 
and dropped through the open window to the ground, 


364 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

Raymond only pausing long enough in the Society hall 
to deposit the telltale lock on one of the settees. 

Once out of doors he led the way across the campus 
in the opposite direction from the Finn house. 

“What are you going this way for?’’ demanded 
Parker, in a low tone. 

“ They’ll track us in the morning,” responded Ray- 
mond, briefly, “ and I want to make sure that they 
go in the right direction.” 

“ This snow will cover all tracks.” 

“ No, it won’t. It isn’t heavy enough.” 

By this time Raymond had reached the center of 
the village street, and, after continuing in the same 
direction for a short distance, he turned, and made 
for the Finn house with hot haste, taking care, how- 
ever, to keep in the middle of the street. “ They’ll 
break this out the first thing in the morning,” he said. 
“ Even if they don’t there are so many tracks there 
now it will not be easy to find ours,” he declared to 
Parker, as he parted from him at Deacon Gorman’s. 

Arriving at the Finn house, Raymond sat for a time 
on the front stairs waiting for Akers, who was not 
long in putting in an appearance. 

“ It’s all right,” he whispered, cheerfully. “ I shook 
him dead easy. Expected he’d holler for help; but 
there wasn’t a sound from him.” 

“ I wish we’d never done it,” declared Raymond, 
regretfully. 

“ So do I now,” acquiesced Akers, “ but you know, 


THE GOAT IN THE BELFREY 365 

Benson, aftersight is usually a good deal more valuable 
than the average run of foresight. All we can do now 
is to keep our mouths shut, and see it through.” 

Naturally there was great excitement throughout 
the Academy when the janitor reported his desperate 
struggle with three vicious marauders in the middle 
of the night. He immediately became the hero of the 
hour, especially with the young ladies, who regarded 
him as the embodiment of manly courage and daring. 

No trace was ever found of his assailants except a 
black cambric mask, which was held to be, of itself, 
sufficient proof of their utter depravity. 

Kerbun, to be sure, had undertaken to track his 
assailants in the morning, and thought he located them 
in a house some distance up the street in the opposite 
direction from the Finn house; but when Professor 
McCleery instituted inquiries he found that the four 
boys who roomed there had all gone to Dicksville 
Friday afternoon with the permission of Professor 
Prescott, to spend Saturday and Sunday at the home 
of one of the quartette. It was, therefore, out of the 
question that any of them could have taken part in the 
reading-room affair. 

The following afternoon found the lock back in 
place, and the door to the reading-room locked as 
securely as before. In this condition it remained until 
the end of the fall term, which finally drew to a close 
with the mystery of the midnight “ burglary ” still 
unsolved. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION 

Raymond and Ned had passed the week between 
the fall and winter terms at Krampton; but in the 
middle of it A1 Wiswell, who was home from the 
Boston law school for a few days, put in an appearance 
with a team, and insisted on carrying them back to 
eat “ Thanksgiving turkey ” with himself and the 
members of the family. 

Following that happy event came a day in which 
the boys roamed the woods with their old friend in 
quest of partridges, talking over old times together, 
and returning at night with well-filled game-bags. 
Wiswell insisted that they must remain over Saturday 
with him, to help him eat the partridge pie which his 
mother had promised to make for him, and which the 
boys declared to be the most delicious “ game dinner ” 
they had ever enjoyed. 

Saturday night, which was favored with a bright 
moon, was spent in a coon hunt, which resulted in the 
capturing of two coons. It then became of very great 
importance in Wiswell’s estimation that they should 
remain over Sunday and eat roast coon with him — an 
invitation so heartily seconded by the members of his 
366 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION. 367 

family that Raymond and Ned, who felt a little 
diffident about the further acceptance of this generous 
hospitality, found themselves quite unable to refuse it. 
It was not till late Sunday afternoon that Wiswell 
finally drove them back to Krampton, even then pro- 
testing that there was no reason in the world why they 
should not remain with him until Monday morning. 

As a result of their friend’s thoughtful kindness, a 
week which had bid fair to be lonesome and monoto- 
nous turned out to be one of the pleasantest that Ray- 
mond and Ned had known during their course at 
Krampton. 

There was the usual scramble for new members by 
the Literiis and Sociis at the beginning of the winter 
term, their efforts resulting, as was frequently the 
case, in an equal division of the new boys. 

The winter and spring terms passed slowly away 
without any events of special note, Raymond and Ned 
again passing the intervening week at Krampton. 

There was, of course, the annual public meetings 
of the societies, both boys having conspicuous parts 
in that of the Sociis. 

It was conceded by the members of the Social 
Brotherhood that either Raymond or Ned should be 
elected address man — which was regarded by mem- 
bers of the senior class as the most desirable of all the 
graduating honors. 

Raymond, who was not insensible to the loyal way 
in which Ned had always stood by him, without, appar- 


368 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

ently, ever giving a thought to his own interests, was 
determined that this merited recognition should go to 
his roommate; but Ned flatly refused to permit the 
use of his name. As a result the honor came to Ray- 
mond by acclamation. 

There was also the usual battery practice with big 
Cy Devons, who laughingly told the boys that he simply 
had them now for their assistance in his own training, 
and not because he felt able to teach them anything 
further. 

Raymond looked forward a little anxiously to the 
responsibilities resting upon him as captain of the 
baseball team; and when the diamond was finally clear 
of snow and ice, at the opening of the summer term, 
he lost no time in beginning out-of-door practice. 

The presence of Akers and Hartley Pember in the 
Academy greatly strengthened the team, which had 
lost Greyson, Wiswell and Densor by graduation. 

Zack Salley proved by far the most promising can- 
didate for first base, his six feet of height and excep- 
tionally long reach enabling him to field the position 
brilliantly. As a hitter he was of the “ slugger ” 
variety, Silas Akers laughingly declaring that he was 
reasonably sure to strike out or drive the ball out of 
the lot, and that no one dared venture a prediction 
which it would be, inasmuch as he was quite as liable 
to do one as the other. As a base runner he was 
swifter than Wiswell had been, but lacked his prede- 
cessor’s cool judgment. 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION. 


369 


A very promising successor to Greyson was devel- 
oped in Billy Williamton, a new boy who had had 
considerable experience in the game. He was sure- 
handed, a fast runner, and an exceptionally fine 
thrower. He was also an average batsman. Alto- 
gether Raymond could not help regarding him as a 
“ find.” The race for the vacant position in center 
field was finally decided in favor of Allen Pember, 
who, while not in Densor’s class as a batsman, was 
fully his equal, if not his superior, as a fielder. 

The team as finally made up, therefore, was consti- 
tuted as follows: 

Zack Salley, ib. ; Hartley Pember, s. s. ; Ned Grover, 
c. ; Donald Barlow, 2b.; Billy Williamton, 1 . f. ; Allen 
Pember, c. f. ; Orville Parker, r. f. ; Silas Akers, 3b.; 
Raymond Benson, p. 

The season was a lively one, the other schools in 
the league presenting stronger teams than they had 
ever had before in Raymond’s and Ned’s experience. 

It will not be necessary to follow the Krampton team 
through the hard-fought contests of the scheduled 
series. Suffice it to say that at the close of the season 
Raymond had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the 
pennant go, for the third successive time, to Kramp- 
ton — a result to which his fine battery work with 
Ned had contributed most powerfully. 

The boys at the Finn house were almost like a 
family group. Josh Lake, who was the only new- 
comer at the start, soon endeared himself to his 


370 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


associates by the generous qualities of his nature, 
while his brilliant scholarship never ceased to be the 
marvel of all his classmates. Ned even went to far 
as to express the opinion that Lake could absorb the 
contents of a book “ by merely smelling of the cover.” 
As time went on, however, his associates at the Finn 
house began to suspect that he was addicted to a habit 
that did not promise well for his future. Raymond 
surprised him one morning, as they were on their way 
to a Greek recitation, in the act of pouring some liquor 
into a glass from a bottle which he had evidently just 
taken from his open trunk. He was somewhat discon- 
certed at first; but, recovering his composure, invited 
Raymond to drink with him. 

“ It will warm you up, and do you good, ,, he said, 
laughingly. 

“ No, thank you,” said Raymond. “ I don’t wish 
for any.” 

“ Well, I hardly expected you would,” smiled Lake, 
as he put the cork carefully back into the bottle and 
replaced it in the trunk. “ This is about the driest 
crowd of fellows here at Krampton that I ever struck.” 

Raymond looked troubled. 

“ Lake,” he said, earnestly, laying a hand upon his 
companion’s shoulder, “ give up this habit now while 
you are strong enough to do it. You are too good 
a fellow, and have too bright a future, to give way to 
an appetite like this.” 

“ Benson,” returned Lake, slowly, “ when you 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION. 37 1 

refused to drink with me I did not urge you further. 
I knew you were of too strong and resolute a nature 
to let me or any one else influence you against your 
will. This I concede of you. On the other hand you 
must give me credit for knowing my own mind. I 
use a little liquor, I’ll admit; but I use it with mod- 
eration. When I think that it hurts me I’ll quit, and 
not before.” 

Raymond was about to reply when Ned entered the 
room, and the subject was abruptly dropped. A 
moment later all three started out together for the 
recitation-room. 

Raymond was seriously disturbed by what he had 
seen and heard; and was unable to put the matter out 
of his mind. As a result he disgusted Professor 
Morton by failing miserably in his Greek recitation. 

For some time following the episode, Raymond and 
Ned, whom he had taken into his confidence, had 
frequent discussions as to how they might best influence 
Lake to give up the use of liquor; but no good way 
appeared to present itself. 

Meanwhile Raymond, who sat next to him in reci- 
tation, was conscious from the odor of his breath, 
which he tried in vain to disguise by a resort to cloves 
and peppermint drops, that Lake still continued his 
potations. 

Raymond was alone in his room one evening about 
a fortnight later, when he was surprised by a call from 
Professor Morton. He gave him a cordial greeting, 


3 J2 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

but the teacher of Greek was apparently ill at ease. 
There was evidently something on his mind, and 
Raymond’s heart sank within him at the sudden fear 
that, possibly, his rank in the department presided over 
by his caller had fallen below the required standard. 

Professor Morton sat a little stiffly in the chair 
Raymond had given him, while his eyes wandered 
about the room as if vainly looking for something 
he was seemingly disappointed in not finding. He 
coughed nervously once or twice, as if to clear his 
throat. 

“ I have come here to-night, Mr. Benson,” he said, 
presently, “ on a somewhat disagreeable — I may say 
painful — errand. Indeed — that is to say — in fact 
I have hesitated a little about coming at all. The duty 
I have to perform is — er — very distasteful to me, 
and I must confess that I have been strongly tempted 
to evade it, especially as your life here at Krampton 
is so soon to close.” 

He paused irresolutely, and Raymond, his face a 
trifle pale, looked at him inquiringly. Obviously this 
reference to his coming graduation did not look like 
a condition in Greek. 

“ I’ve come here entirely of my own volition,” 
continued the Professor, after a moment’s awkward 
silence, “to — I speak, let me say, as your friend, 
and for your own interests, — to remonstrate with you 
against a continuation of your intemperate habits.” 

Raymond rose from his seat and faced his visitor 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION. 373 

with startled amazement in his eyes. He was aghast 
at the unexpected accusation. 

“ My — my intemperate habits ? ” he repeated, in a 
dazed way. “ What do you mean ? Surely you must 
be joking.” 

“ You must excuse me,” sighed the Professor, 
regretfully, “ if I fail to see any humor in the situ- 
ation. To me it looks most serious — er — in fact — 
deplorable.” 

“ But, I never drank a glass of liquor in my life! ” 
exclaimed Raymond, indignantly. 

The Professor looked at him, incredulously. 

“ I should like to believe that, Benson,” he said, 
with a sorrowful shake of his head ; “ but I am unable 
to doubt the evidence of my own senses. Believe me, 
I have not come to you without being fully assured of 
my ground.” 

“ The evidence of your senses ? What do you 
mean ? ” demanded Raymond, whose temper was fast 
getting the better of his self-control. 

“ Simply this,” responded the Professor, looking 
him full in the eyes. “ That I have for weeks past 
smelled your breath in my recitation-room. I have 
seen, moreover, how unfavorably this unfortunate 
habit has affected your work in your studies. No 
student, Benson, can drink liquor and maintain a high 
standing in his classes. It were far better for you,” 
he continued, with earnest emphasis, “ that you had 
never come to Krampton than to go forth from here 


374 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

handicapped by a habit that foredooms you to failure 
in life’s work.” 

A great light broke in upon Raymond while the 
Professor was speaking. The teacher of Greek held 
that no drinking student could do first-class work in 
his studies. When, therefore, he had smelled the 
fumes exhaled by Lake, he had attributed them to the 
boy who sat next to him, and whose work in the class- 
room was distinctly inferior. It was a sad mistake, 
but, unfortunately, one that is not infrequently made 
by well-meaning but impractical educators who under- 
take to measure manhood by scholarship. 

“ Professor Morton,” — Raymond’s voice was cool 
and calm now, for he recognized that he had Lake’s 
interests as well as his own to protect — “I have lived 
nearly three years of my life here in this town in daily 
contact with the students and faculty of Krampton 
Academy. In that time I must have established some 
kind of a reputation. I do not deny that I have been 
concerned in a good many of the student pranks; but 
I repeat that I have never used tobacco nor tasted a 
drop of liquor in my life, and you cannot find any one 
in this town, in the Academy or out of it, who will 
say that they have ever seen me do anything of the 
kind. Have you made any inquiries in that direc- 
tion? ” 

There was an expression of pain in Professor Mor- 
ton’s eyes. “ There was no need of it,” he said, 
sorrowfully. “ I had all the evidence necessary.” 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION. 375 

He rose from his chair, and paced nervously up and 
down the room. 

“ I came here to-night, Benson,” he said, with 
evident feeling, “ not as a member of the Krampton 
faculty, but as your personal friend. I have kept my 
own counsel about this matter, and I am here now 
to do you what I believe to be a real service. I am 
very sorry,” he added, sadly, “ that you have seen 
fit to meet my well-meant advances in this defiant 
spirit.” 

“ I suppose you would have me confess to a habit 
I never acquired,” returned Raymond, a little bitterly, 
“ but I’d rather leave Krampton to-night than to 
remain here on those terms.” 

“ The question of your remaining at Krampton is 
not involved here, Benson,” said the Professor, depre- 
catingly. “ I have told you that I am not here as a 
member of the faculty. The question at stake is the 
vastly greater one of your own future welfare.” 

“ I appreciate your motives, Professor, even though 
they are enlisted in a mistaken cause. I tell you it’s 
mighty tough, though, for a fellow to be called, with- 
out cause, a drunkard and a liar in his own room.” 

Professor Morton gazed at the excited boy, who 
faced him so resolutely and looked him so fearlessly 
in the eye, with an air of perplexity, while his fingers 
drummed nervously on the table beside him. He was 
not accustomed to have culprits bear themselves in this 


manner. 


37^ RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ I don’t know what to make of you, Benson,” he 
said, thoughtfully. “ You would almost convince me 
that I was in error, if I were less sure of myself. I 
have, however, evidence of at least one carousal, in 
which you and some of your friends participated, 
which I do not think you will venture to dispute.” 

He carefully unbuttoned his coat, and produced the 
“ tough ” group picture which had been taken by the 
Dicksville photographer. 

“ You will not deny that you were a member of this 
disgraceful party ? ” he questioned, a little triumphantly, 
as he noted Raymond’s very evident embarrassment 
and dismay. 

“ Not at all,” returned Raymond, slowly. “ I do 
deny, however, that this photograph shows anything, 
but a bit of foolish horse-play, the materials for which 
were furnished us by the photographer. The members 
of that group were all as sober as you and I are. The 
whole thing was simply a prank, done on the impulse 
of the moment, and one which I think most of us 
afterwards regretted.” 

“ A plausible explanation, but scarcely a satisfactory 
one,” said the Professor, coldly. 

“ May I ask where you got that photograph ? ” 
inquired Raymond. 

“ That’s my business.” 

“ You might at least inquire of the photographer 
whether the story I have told you is true or not, before 
you make any further use of it.” 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION. T>77 

Professor Morton was apparently struck by the force 
of this suggestion. 

“ That might be well. I never thought of it,” he 
said. “ Still, I suppose the fellow would stand by 
his patrons, especially if he was a party to their dissi- 
pations.” 

Raymond’s face flushed angrily at this insinuation. 

“ You appear to believe with the Psalmist that all 
men are liars,” he said, resentfully. 

“ What I have seen here to-night hasn’t tended to 
enlarge my faith in human nature,” returned the 
Professor. “ I feel, Benson, that my call on you 
hasn’t been as successful as I had hoped. I regret 
more than I can tell you to find you in this obdurate 
frame of mind. It would, I think, be profitless to 
pursue the subject further. If you are determined to 
continue in your present course it will not be my fault. 
If, however, you have no regard for your own interests, 
I trust that you will at least have respect enough for 
me not to come into my recitations again in an intoxi- 
cated condition.” 

He paused with his hand on the door-knob, and 
Raymond fancied that he saw tears in his eyes. For 
a moment he hesitated, as if he wished to say some- 
thing further; but, apparently, thought better of it, 
and, with an abrupt “ good-night,” left the room. 

Alone with himself Raymond paced restlessly up 
and down the room in a tumult of conflicting emotions. 
He was inclined to be angry with Professor Morton 


37§ RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

for his lack of discernment, and yet he could but 
appreciate the friendly spirit he had shown under his 
misapprehension of the facts. He was conscious, too, 
of a feeling of resentment against Lake, whose failure 
to heed the advice of his friends was directly respon- 
sible for the existing situation. 

He was in the midst of these reflections, when Ned, 
who had been attending the regular weekly Literii 
meeting, returned home. His quick eye told him that 
something unusual had disturbed Raymond. 

“ What is it, old fellow ? ” he asked, as he hung up 
his hat. “ No bad news from home, I hope.” 

“ No,” returned Raymond, briefly. “ But I have 
troubles of my own here.” 

Ned seated himself in the big easy chair and, throw- 
ing a leg over one arm, turned inquiringly to his 
roommate. 

“ Do you know that Lake drinks ? ” asked Raymond, 
seating himself on the edge of the bed. 

Ned looked relieved. 

“ Oh, that’s it, is it ? ” he returned, carelessly. “ I 
thought you were going to tell me something new.” 

“ I think I shall before I get through,” returned 
Raymond, grimly, and he proceeded to give his room- 
mate the particulars of Professor Morton’s call, omit- 
ting nothing that had passed between them. 

At the conclusion of his narrative, Ned, who had 
listened with breathless attention, gave vent to a 
prolonged whistle. 


A SURPRISING ACCUSATION. 379 

“ This is a pretty kettle of fish,” he ejaculated. 

“ That’s just what it is,” asserted Raymond, “ with 
the worst to come yet. Up to this time Morton has 
not revealed his discoveries regarding my intemperate 
habits to the other members of the faculty.” 

“ It would, probably, have been a good thing for 
you if he had,” asserted Ned. “ They are not all as 
dense as he is.” 

“ Not a word against him, Ned,” warned Raymond. 
“ We must admit that he has good reasons for thinking 
as he does. Thus far he has acted only as my friend. 
If Lake continues his morning drinks, however, it may 
not be long before he will think it his duty to turn me 
over to the faculty.” 

“ And get laughed at for his pains. You have no 
reason to fear an investigation.” 

“ No,” asserted Raymond, “ but what about Lake? ” 

Ned looked grave. 

“ That’s so,” he said, with wrinkled brow. “ Blame 
it all ! Why can’t that fellow use a little horse-sense ? 
Have you told him about this ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Of course you’re going to? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ One thing is certain, if you don’t, I will,” said 
Ned, with decision. “ He’s more at stake than you 
are, if the matter should be probed any further. Prof. 
McCleery would never make Morton’s mistake. It’s 
necessary for Lake to be warned of the situation. He 


380 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

must see to it that Morton doesn’t smell you in the 
classroom again this term,” he added, sarcastically. 

“ That’s the only thing that would make me tell 
him,” said Raymond. “ Of course he — ” 

A rap at the door interrupted the conversation, and, 
in response to Ned’s summons, Josh Lake entered the 


room. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


A FISHING TRIP TO PERLEY POND 

“ Am I breaking up a private conference ? ” smiled 
Lake, as he hesitated a moment by the door. 

“ Not at all. Take a chair, old man,” returned 
Raymond, cordially. “ Do you know, Josh, that his 
Satanic Majesty is always around when you’re talking 
about him ? ” 

“ I believe the wise men so state, but what could 
you find to say about me ? — nothing very bad, I hope.” 

“ Josh,” said Ned, solemnly, “ do you know that 
you’ve got Raymond into a mighty bad scrape ? ” 

“ Me ? ” exclaimed Lake, looking from one to the 
other in astonishment. “Why, what have I done?” 

“ You’ve made Morton believe that Raymond is the 
heaviest drinker at Krampton. Funny, isn’t it? He 
was in here, however, this evening, to remonstrate 
with him for his intemperate habits. Swore he’d been 
smelling his breath in the classroom for weeks past.” 

Lake’s features, mobile, and quick to betray his feel- 
ings, showed how strongly he had been moved by this 
recital. The color had fled even from his lips, as he 
turned to Raymond and asked in a voice which indi- 
cated clearly his deep concern: 

381 


382 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ This is no joke, Benson ?” 

“ No,” returned Raymond, quietly. “ What Ned 
told you is true.” 

“ And you are to suffer for my shortcomings ? ” 
continued Lake. 

“ Not seriously, I hope. Professor Morton said 
that he came to me as a friend, and not as a member 
of the faculty. He has, so far, kept his alleged dis- 
coveries to himself.” 

Lake rose to his feet and stood looking at his com- 
panions with an air of abstraction. There was a look 
of deep trouble on his face. 

“ Benson,” he said, slowly. " I have often wished, 
in my secret soul, that I possessed the same powers of 
self-control that I have seen in the fellows with whom 
I have been associated here at Krampton. I have 
greatly enjoyed your society, and yet,” he hesitated, 
and there was a slight tremor in his voice, “ I have 
sometimes felt as if I were a little out of my element. 
I have had so little to give, so much to receive.” 

“ Don’t say that, Josh,” interposed Raymond, with 
genuine distress. “ You have helped and stimulated 
us all in our studies — in the real work we came here 
to do. We all know that you are loyal and true to 
your friends.” 

“ I am at least sufficiently so not to allow any one 
of them to suffer on my account,” said Lake, earnestly. 
“ I must think this over, boys,” and turning abruptly 
he left the room. 


A FISHING TRIP TO PERLEY POND 383 


“What do you suppose he’ll do?” asked Raymond 
of Ned when he was gone. 

“ Do ? Why, he’ll go to Morton and tell him the 
truth.” 

“ We mustn’t let him do that! ” exclaimed Raymond, 
in alarm. 

“Why not?” 

“ He might be expelled.” 

“ And so may you.” 

“ You are mistaken, Ned. Professor Morton dis- 
tinctly told me that nothing of that kind was involved 
in his talk with me.” 

Ned was about to reply, when the door opened, and 
Lake came into the room again. His hat was on, and 
Ned noticed that he carried several letters in his hand. 

“Anything to go to the post-office?” he inquired. 

“Where are you going, Josh?” demanded Ray- 
mond, with quick suspicion, ignoring his question. 

“ To tell Professor Morton that I’m the fellow that’s 
been doing the drinking.” 

“ You sha’n’t do anything of the kind,” declared 
Raymond, with emphasis. 

“ But I certainly shall,” returned Lake, firmly. 

He laid a pleading hand on Raymond’s shoulder. 

“ Benson,” he said, in a choked voice. “ I have my 
faults; let me carry them. If you are the friend I 
believe you to be, you will not ask me to be a sneak.” 

“ But, Josh,” expostulated Raymond. “ Just listen 
to reason. Use a little common sense in this matter. 


384 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

Morton came here to give me a friendly warning. If 
he thinks I have heeded it — and that is in your hands 
— the thing will drop there. He would be terribly 
chagrined to find that he had made a mistake, and 
very likely would have you expelled from the Academy. 
Go slow, old man. In four weeks we shall graduate. 
After you have got your diploma safely locked up in 
your trunk, if you want to go and have a talk with 
Professor Morton, all well and good. Let things go 
along as they are till then.” 

“ IPs good of you to advise this, Benson,” returned 
Lake, firmly, “ but I can’t do it — I simply can’t. I 
should feel uncomfortable every minute. I should be 
playing a cowardly part, and putting a friend in a false 
position.” 

“ I think Raymond is right, Josh,” interposed Ned. 
“ There is no need of your making a burnt offering 
of yourself at this stage of the game. Quit drinking. 
Go about your business, and four weeks from now, 
when you can do it safely, go and tell Morton every- 
thing.” 

Lake paced back and forth in very evident distress 
of mind. 

“ You advise the safe course, boys,” he said, slowly, 
“ but it is never wise to take counsel of our fears. 
The best thing is to do the right thing — the manly 
thing.” 

“ I’ll admit that you may be strictly right, Josh,” 
said Raymond, earnestly, “ but this situation is gov- 


A FISHING TRIP TO PERLEY POND 385 

erned by peculiar conditions. I have lost nothing, 
except the good opinion of Professor Morton for the 
time being, and that I had just as soon get back a 
month later as to-day. I want you to let him have, 
at least for the next four weeks, all the satisfaction 
that can come from the thought that he has worked 
a reformation. I ask you to do this, Josh, as a per- 
sonal favor to me.” 

“ I don’t feel right in doing this, Benson,” returned 
Lake, reluctantly, “ but I shall not oppose your wishes 
in the matter. Let me say, however, that Professor 
Morton’s reformation will be a genuine one, although 
it will not be in the fellow he thinks it is. I’m all 
through with drink, and there’s my hand on it.” 

He held out his hand and Raymond shook it warmly. 
A moment later he left the room. 

“ Do you know, old fellow,” said Ned, thoughtfully, 
when he and Raymond were alone together, “ that, 
oftentimes, things that seem to be at cross purposes 
work out for the best. Morton would never have 
got that pledge from Lake, if he had gone to him 
instead of you.” 

“ And I have no doubt but that he will keep it,” 
declared Raymond, a prediction which was borne out 
by events. 

Professor Morton was very much gratified at what 
appeared to be a change for the better in Raymond, 
and was disposed to look with a more lenient eye on 
his shortcomings as a Greek scholar. 


386 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

A fortnight later when Raymond had lingered behind 
the class to inquire about the construction of a passage 
which had bothered him, the Professor took occasion 
to express his satisfaction in the course matters had 
taken. “ I only hope, Benson,” he said, earnestly, 
“ that this change may be permanent.” 

“ I’m very sure it will,” was Raymond’s sober 
response. 

A few days after this conversation, the boys at the 
Finn house, accompanied by six or seven who roomed 
at other places in the village, took teams one after- 
noon for a “ camp-fire and chowder ” on an island in 
Perley pond, a picturesque sheet of water about four 
miles out of the village. As some doubt existed about 
obtaining the sanction of the faculty, their permission 
to take the trip was not asked. 

The team which was to convey them to their desti- 
nation was in waiting beyond a hill just out of the 
village, and, one by one, the boys found their way 
to it by various routes which were supposed to throw 
a large amount of dust in the eyes of the entire 
Academy world. 

As usually happens in such cases, however, their 
movements were by no means as secret as they 
imagined. In fact they attracted attention from some 
who would, otherwise, have been oblivious by the 
very mystery with which they were conducted. So 
large a number of boys, each with a bundle under his 
arm, strolling with a vast assumption of nonchalance 


A FISHING TRIP TO PERLEY POND 387 

towards the outskirts of the village, could scarcely 
escape discovery, however shrewdly they imagined they 
had effected their departure. 

If they could have looked behind them in the gath- 
ering twilight, as they rode away in high glee at their 
own fancied cleverness in outwitting the faculty, they 
w^ould have seen, in the shadow of a big pine that 
crowned the summit of the hill behind them, one of 
the members of that body — Professor Prescott — 
watching them with very evident amusement. A 
few moments later he was closeted with Professor 
McCleery. 

“ Well,” asked the Principal, with his customary 
directness, “ what did you find out ? ” 

“We suspected from the bamboo poles they carried 
along that they might, possibly, contemplate fishing 
for hornpout,” replied Professor Prescott, smiling as 
he spoke. 

“ And they are going to make them into a chowder,” 
added the Principal. “ Young Pember was into Burn- 
ham's store a while ago and bought some salt pork.” 

The two teachers indulged in a laugh as hearty as 
it was spontaneous. 

“ Do you know, Prescott,” remarked the Principal, 
reflectively, “ that the average boy is a mighty poor 
actor. Time and time again I've had them go out of 
my presence feeling bitterly certain that some one had 
betrayed them, when absolutely all that I knew con- 
cerning the matter in hand was what they, themselves, 


388 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

had unconsciously revealed to me. If you let a boy 
do most of the talking, he’ll usually tell you all you 
want to know concerning himself.” 

“ Yes, and sometimes, as in this case, they don’t 
have to talk at all. Actions occasionally speak louder 
than words,” was the laughing rejoinder. “ What 
shall we do with these fellows ? ” 

“ They didn’t take any liquor with them, did they ? ” 

“ No, they are not that kind of boys.” 

“ I thought not. Oh, well, let them have their sport. 
I hope, though, they won’t be out too late.” 

“ Most of that party is from the Finn house,” 
remarked Professor Prescott, with a twinkle in his 
eye. “ It’s such a beautiful evening that I thought I 
should rather enjoy sitting up a little late, and meeting 
them at the front door on their return.” 

The Principal shot a look of amusement at his 
colleague. 

“ You’re a good deal of a boy yourself, Prescott,” 
he said, in a jocular tone. “ Why didn’t you go with 
them ? ” 

“ I would have gone, if they’d invited me,” was the 
response. “ I’d half a mind to hitch up, and go any- 
way; but on the whole I thought it would be best not 
to throw any constraint upon the festivities of the 
occasion. I concluded to have my fun later.” 

Professor McCleery and Professor Prescott were 
not the only persons in the village who were aware 
of the departure of the fishing party, without per- 


A FISHING TRIP TO PERLEY POND 389 

mission of the faculty, and in utter disregard of study 
hours. 

Hartley Pember had confided the plans of the party 
to May Bavis, who thought, for a time, that she had 
an exclusive piece of information. When, however, 
she came to compare notes with Sadie Quincy, Dottie 
Boyden, Annie Waters, and several others who were 
“ keeping company ” with Finn house boys, she was 
somewhat chagrined to find that they were similarly 
enlightened. 

Even Sadie Quincy’s sage remark, that a great many 
people were required to keep a really big secret in a 
school like Krampton, did not entirely mollify her. 
Still, as Pember did not appear to be personally 
responsible for the general enlightenment that seemed 
to prevail among the young ladies, she mentally 
resolved to forgive him — after a reasonable number 
of reproaches. 

As the last of the fishing party were winding their 
way over Sugar Loaf hill, behind which the hotel barge 
was waiting for them, Mary Winslow, whose room 
commanded a view of the roadway to the top of that 
elevation, was surprised to see Professor Prescott 
trailing along in their rear. Obviously something was 
wrong. 

As she had been attending the levees that term with 
Charlie Hoyle, she felt a special interest in the Finn 
house boys and their movements. After some reflec- 
tion on the subject she put on her hat, and joined the 


390 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


girls at the Asylum, who she felt very sure would be 
glad to share her information. 

A comparison of notes gave the party a very clear 
idea of the situation. Obviously the boys had been 
discovered, and would probably be caught on their 
return. Something must be done at once. 

It was finally decided to take Bertha Sutton, who 
lived a short distance from the Asylum, into their 
confidence. This proved a fortunate move, for she 
readily entered into their plans, and arranged with her 
brother Dave, who was not a student at the Academy, 
to drive to Perley pond and warn the boys that they 
were discovered. 

Several hours later Raymond, who had been chosen 
cook by lot, was hard at work beneath the big pines 
on Oval Island, preparing the materials for a chowder. 
A large iron kettle was suspended over a blazing fire 
from a short pole, whose ends rested in crotched stakes 
driven into the ground. 

A short distance from the shore, in the glare of the 
camp-fire, and still further illuminated by torches, were 
several flat-bottomed boats, in which the remaining 
members of the party sat and fished. 

As fast as hornpouts were caught they were thrown, 
alive and squirming, to the cook on the shore, and in 
a short time Raymond had a sufficient number dressed 
to meet all the requirements of the chowder. When 
the last ingredient of the savory compound was safely 
stowed away beneath the cover of the steaming kettle, 


A FISHING TRIP TO PERLEY POND 39I 

Raymond turned for a moment to admire the beauty 
of the scene before him. It was a bright, starlight 
night, and the noble pine trees about the shores cast 
long shadows upon the glassy surface of the pond. 
He could distinctly hear the conversation of the boys 
in the boats, as they whistled, laughed, told stories, 
swapped comment, and indulged in rollicking snatches 
of song. The bark of a dog came clearly across the 
water from a farmhouse on the opposite shore, and 
mingled with the current of their merriment. The 
faint tinkle of a cow-bell sounded, at intervals, from 
a distant hillside pasture, and seemed to harmonize 
with the hum and drone of the swarms of insects 
that circled about the camp-fire, and the torches of the 
fishermen. 

Raymond was aroused from the reverie into which 
he had been carried by the contemplation of the scene, 
by a shout from the main shore. 

“ Halloo ! Halloo, boys!” 

“ Halloo, yourself ! ” yelled Raymond, in return. 

“ Send — over — a — boat — and — get — me,” 
came the shout in measured emphasis from the party 
on the shore. 

The fishermen had ceased their conversation, and 
were listening intently. 

“ You’d better row over and get him, Hartley,” 
called Raymond to Pember, who was in the boat 
nearest the shore from which the call came. 

" He may be one of the faculty,” objected Barlow. 


39 2 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ If he is he won’t feel any worse against us after 
he’s eaten some of our chowder,” laughed Raymond. 
“ I rather think, though, it’s one of the fellows.” 

Pember rowed to the main shore, and soon returned 
with Dave Sutton. The boys in the other boats came 
ashore, and, seated in the circle about the blazing camp- 
fire, Dave told the boys that their movements had been 
discovered, and that without doubt a watch was being 
kept to “ catch them red-handed ” upon their return 
to the village. 

“ And now, fellows,” announced Raymond cheer- 
fully, when the visitor had concluded his statement, 
“ let’s have a little chowder, for a change.” 

“ But how about the faculty ? ” demanded Barlow, 
anxiously. 

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” said 
Raymond, coolly. “ For the present let us eat and 
be merry.” 

In a short time the disturbing news which Sutton 
had brought was, apparently, forgotten in the enjoy- 
ment of the chowder, which was none the less palatable 
for being eaten from tin basins with iron spoons. 

At the close of the repast these dishes were buried 
in the sand beneath the water on the shore of the pond, 
to soak themselves clean, while the members of the 
party engaged in a council of war. 

It was finally decided to return to Krampton by 
another road, which would land them in the vicinity 
of the fish-works. Raymond was unanimously elected 


A FISHING TRIP TO PERLEY POND 393 

commander-in-chief for the purpose, as the boys laugh- 
ingly declared, of “ conducting the retreat.” 

The ride home, in spite of any apprehensions that 
members of the party may have felt, was a jolly one. 
As they neared the village their voices were lowered, 
and after parting with their teams in the road near 
the fish-works, the party struck into the woods which 
skirted the brook. Raymond had his plan of opera- 
tions well mapped out, and led his followers carefully 
along the valley of the brook until they had passed 
by the village, and nearly reached the river. Then 
they crossed the road, and taking advantage of the 
cover afforded by the fences and stone walls finally 
reached the rear of the Finn house stable. Peering 
round the corner Raymond caught sight of Professor 
Prescott, pacing slowly up and down the street. 

In a few whispered words he informed his com- 
panions of his discovery. It was at once decided that 
the members of the party who did not room at the 
Finn house should nevertheless stay there for the 
remainder of the night, the various sofas and couches 
being utilized for their accommodation. 

The party then worked its way carefully into the 
stable through the small window back of the cow stall. 

From there they made their way, on tiptoe, through 
the kitchen and dining-room to the lower hallway, and 
up the front stairs to their rooms, where the entire 
party undressed and went to bed without striking a 
match. 


394 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


As they were soon sound asleep they had no means 
of knowing how long Professor Prescott maintained 
his vigil. 

Some of them fancied that they caught him observ- 
ing them with a suspicious twinkle in his eye the next 
day; but this, at best, was only conjecture. 

It may be added that none of the members of the 
fishing party ever heard anything from this escapade, 
so far as the Krampton faculty was concerned. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


copen’s masterpiece 

Anniversary day was drawing near, and through 
the open windows of various senior rooms, and from 
some of the cool woodland walks that bordered the 
stream behind the village, came the reverberating roll 
of graduation eloquence. Professor Chapin was quite 
the busiest man at Krampton, giving private lessons 
in elocution to the seniors, and to the members of the 
middle class who were to compete in the prize-speaking 
contest, which divided, with the graduating exercises, 
the interest attaching to the closing week of the school 
year. 

Glittering generalities were in active demand, and 
a number of problems that had long perplexed the 
philosophers were settled off-hand by the boys and 
girls who were about to leave the Krampton Academy, 
as was variously stated by different members of the 
class, “ to enter upon a larger sphere of activity,” 
“ to go forth into the great world of thought and 
action,” “ to grapple with life’s problems,” “ to mingle 
with the vast throng that floats along life’s madly 
rushing current,” etc., etc. 

It was a period of unconscious humor; but in the 
395 


396 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

midst of them all Professor Chapin went his placid 
way with a serene and solemn countenance, and a 
courteous gravity of attention that made each pupil 
feel, in his heart of hearts, that it was his own keen 
and subtle thought that had most impressed this wily 
diplomat, whose criticisms were strictly limited to 
voice and gesture. 

Raymond had chosen, as the subject of his address 
to the Social Brotherhood, the momentous inquiry, 
“ Shall We Scale the Heights or Flank Them? ” In 
sentences that were well-rounded and sonorous, he 
had shown conclusively that any one who would choose 
the latter alternative would indeed be lacking in all 
the fundamental qualities of a noble manhood. 

Ned had intended to write on “ Only a Dead Fish 
Floats with the Stream,” a subject that appeared to 
him to be peculiarly rich in possibilities for eloquence, 
but, to his intense disgust, the faculty selected him to 
deliver the Latin oration. This decree was final. It 
was one of the peculiarities of “ class honors ” at 
Krampton, that when the victim was once fixed upon, 
there was positively no escape from them. 

In a village residence not far from the Finn house, 
Bill Copen was working out his graduating oration. 
He made no attempt to conceal the fact that it was, 
distinctly, “ the effort of his life.” 

Copen firmly believed that true eloquence was largely 
a matter of lung power. He had long been a regular 
attendant upon all the political meetings within reach 


copen’s masterpiece 


397 


of him, and he delighted to tell how this or that stump 
speaker had “ woke the echoes ” in some large hall. 
It was very evident that he had determined that what- 
ever echoes might lurk in Chapel hall should not 
slumber through his remarks. His voice was naturally 
thin and pitched upon a high key, and there was a 
distinct nasal twang to it, which all of Professor 
Chapin’s instruction had failed to overcome. It was, 
however, a very penetrating voice, and it was not long 
before the boys at the Finn house, and the neighbors 
generally, could almost repeat from memory the fervid 
and flowery “ sky-scraper ” — as Ned called it — with 
which Copen was planning to electrify his audience on 
graduation day. 

Hartley Pember, who had taken shorthand through 
the year in connection with his course in the Com- 
mercial college, was accustomed to sit by his open 
window and practice that art on Copen’s sonorous 
sentences. 

The boys at the Finn house were gathered in Ray- 
mond and Ned’s room one Friday evening near the 
close of the term, when Akers and Barlow came in, 
their faces wreathed in smiles. 

“ What mischief have you fellows been up to now ? ” 
demanded Raymond, as they seated themselves beside 
him on the edge of the bed. 

“ We’ve been over to see Copen,” laughed Akers. 

“ Did he give you those burning thoughts of his on 
‘Pyramids Not All Egyptian?’” asked Ned. 


398 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ Did he ? ” chuckled Akers. “ I guess you’d thought 
so if you’d seen and heard him perform. He let him- 
self out to the full length of the traces, and ploughed 
along considerably better than a 2.40 gait. In fact 
he ‘ woke the echoes.’ ” 

A burst of laughter greeted this use of Copen’s 
favorite phrase. 

“ I have something here I think you would all take 
pleasure in listening to,” announced Hartley Pember, 
producing a manuscript from his pocket. Clearing his 
throat, he read : “ The great movements that perplex 

and mystify mankind, are but links in the mighty 
sweep of a manifold destiny.” 

“ That will do, Copen,” interrupted Raymond, with 
mock severity. “ We know all about those pyramids.” 

“ Where did you get that?” demanded Barlow. 

“ Oh, I’ve been taking shorthand notes on Brother 
Copen’s efforts for the past week,” responded Pember. 
“ I’ve just got them written out, and I rather think 
they are verbatim et literatim 

“ That fits right into our scheme, . Silas,” continued 
Barlow, turning to his roommate. 

“ Just what I was thinking,” said Akers. “ You 
know, fellows,” he added, addressing himself to the 
other members of the group, “ that Don and I couldn’t 
help having just a little fun with Copen.” 

“ I’ll bet you couldn’t,” interposed Ned. 

‘‘We gave him rapt attention when he favored us 
with his oration, until he had wound up with that last 


copen’s masterpiece 


399 


Olympian reach of his — then we sat looking at each 
other as solemn as owls, and shaking our heads very 
much as those two old ladies who visited the Socii 
meeting did. We could see that it made Cope feel 
mighty uncomfortable. By and by he simply couldn’t 
stand it any longer. 

“ 4 Well, what do you think of it? ’ he asked. 

Seems to me I’ve heard something of the kind 
before,’ said I. 4 What do you think of it, Don ? ’ 

“ 4 Sounds mighty familiar,’ was Barlow’s comment. 
Lord! You should have seen that fellow go into the 
air. He was madder than a wet hen — wasn’t he, 
Don?” 

44 It certainly looked that way 4 from where I sot 
in the kitchen,’ ” assented Barlow. 

44 You should have seen him cavort around and snort 
defiance. 

44 4 Do I understand that you charge me with plagi- 
arism ? ’ he cried, pale as a sheet. 

44 Don and I looked at each other like a couple of 
inspired idiots. 

44 4 What does that word mean ? ’ I asked. 

44 4 Blamed if I know — er — unless it is to plague,’ 
said he. 

44 Copen looked at us in supreme disgust. 

44 4 Do you mean to insinuate that I cribbed this 
oration ? ’ he demanded. But we ignored the question. 

44 4 Where’s that old pile of newspapers you had?’’ 
I asked, turning to Don. 


400 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ ‘ What are left are in an old trunk in the attic ? ’ 
said he. 

“ 4 Come/ I said, rising. ‘ Let's go home and look 
them over. We’ll answer your question, Brother 
Copen, when we have concluded our investigation. 
With that we left him, about the hottest fellow in four 
counties." 

A hearty laugh greeted this narrative. 

“ Let’s do it," exclaimed Raymond, with sudden 
inspiration. 

“ Do what ? " demanded Pember. 

“ Have that oration of Cope’s printed — I’ll pay my 
share." 

“ Why not take it up to the ‘ Banner ’ office in Ash- 
ville?" asked Lake. “They can set it up newspaper 
style with column rules at the side. Then they can 
back it up with some of their regular advertisements, 
and it will look for all the world as if it had been 
clipped out of a newspaper." 

A chorus of approval greeted this suggestion. A 
collection was immediately taken to defray expenses, 
and Akers and Hartley Pember were chosen as a 
committee to carry the plan into execution. 

A few evenings later, at a meeting of the Finn 
house boys, held in his room, Akers took from his 
vest pocket and carefully unfolded what appeared to 
be a newspaper clipping, somewhat soiled and worse 
for wear. The members of the group to whom he 
passed it for inspection could not restrain their laughter 


copen's masterpiece 


401 


when they saw Copen’s masterpiece, giving every 
appearance of having been cut from some dingy old 
paper. 

Pember was immediately sent to Copen’s room with 
a cordial invitation for him to come to the Finn house, 
and favor the roomers there with a rehearsal of. his 
oration. 

Copen was not accustomed to let such opportunities 
pass unimproved. He felt that a great compliment 
had been paid him, and he lost no time in putting in 
an appearance at the room of Raymond and Ned, 
where he recited his masterpiece with an exceptional 
intensity and vigor that appeared to make a deep 
impression on his listeners. 

By motion of Charlie Hoyle an enthusiastic vote 
of thanks was given him for the instruction and enter- 
tainment afforded by his address. 

“ Now, gentlemen,” said Raymond, pounding the 
table with the end of a big ruler, to shut off the con- 
gratulations that were being showered upon the smiling 
and self-satisfied orator, “ has any one any criticism 
to pass upon the effort of our distinguished brother? ” 

“ Mr. President,” said Akers, rising with solemn 
deference, “ when our able and eloquent friend 
favored Mr. Barlow and myself several days ago with 
a rehearsal of the literary and forensic gem we have 
been favored with this evening, we were frank to say 
to him that it had a familiar sound, and I fear that 
he was somewhat vexed when we candidly told him 


402 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


that we should have to withhold our verdict until we 
had had opportunity to examine a pile of old news- 
papers stored in the attic of this house.” 

Here he paused with ostentatious deliberation, and, 
after fumbling about in his pockets a few moments, 
produced the printed copy of Copen’s address which 
he had exhibited to the boys. 

“ I hold here in my hand,” he said, “ in printed 
form, the very address which our silver-tongued brother 
has just delivered. Let him explain to us, if he can, 
the singular coincidence.” 

He handed the slip to Copen, who stood reading it 
in a dazed manner, the color coming and going in his 
face. Presently he crumpled up the paper and thrust 
it into his pocket in apparent desperation. He took 
one or two quick turns up and down the room, in very 
evident perturbation of spirits. 

“ I never knew that he had it published,” he cried, 
in a tone of distress. “ I ought never to have used it.” 

Amazement shone in all the faces of his listeners. 
Here was a new development of the joke which was 
wholly a surprise to them. Up to that moment not 
one of them had suspected that Copen’s masterpiece 
was not original with him. 

“ I am disgraced — humiliated,” groaned the un- 
happy orator. “ I shall never deliver it.” 

“ Who was the author? ” asked Akers, who was the 
first to recover from his astonishment. 

“ My uncle. It’s the piece he delivered when he 


copen's masterpiece 


403 


graduated at Tillville, twenty years ago. I found it 
among his papers in the attic. I never suspected that 
it had been published. I can’t go on with it now.” 

Tears of mortification rolled down his cheeks, and 
his companions could not help pitying him a little. 

“ Don’t take it to heart, old man,” said Charlie 
Hoyle, soothingly. “ Only the fellows here know 
anything about it, and you may be sure we’ll keep it 
mum.” 

“ Certainly,” assented Hartley Pember, “ but, with 
all due regard to Brother Copen, I would urge — or 
rather suggest — that the wherewith for a small sar- 
dine supper would put us all under deeper obligations.” 

Copen took the hint and left the room, returning 
soon after with the necessary materials for a sardine 
supper. Before he left for his own room, the Finn 
house boys stood with him in a circle of clasped hands, 
and solemnly pledged themselves not to reveal his 
secret — a compact which, it may be said to their 
credit, they faithfully observed. 

Notwithstanding the security thus obtained, Copen’s 
pride in his masterpiece was gone. He bitterly regret- 
ted that he had not written his own graduating part, 
as his classmates had written theirs; but it was too 
late to repair the error. 

His delivery of the part on graduating day was 
conspicuously lacking in the “ strenuosity ” which he 
had planned to impart to it, and while many of his 
hearers declared that they had never before heard him 


404 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


speak so well, he felt, in the disappointment of his own 
heart, that it had been a wretched failure, and a wasted 
opportunity. 

Among the boys who were in their first year at 
Krampton, were two who had made many friends, 
but whose inexperience and credulity made them com- 
paratively easy game for the practical jokers. They 
were Zack Salley and Elbert Digby. 

Salley had proved to be an unexpected addition to 
the athletic forces of the Academy, playing a very 
creditable game on both the football and baseball 
teams. 

Digby was a good scholar, and ranked well up in 
his class; but like Salley was inclined to be unduly 
impressed with the importance of some of the older 
students. Both boys were eager listeners to the stories 
of former student pranks, and it was very evident that 
they would not be disposed to lose any opportunity 
to participate in sport of this character. 

This fact did not escape the notice of Raymond 
Benson, who made up his mind to give Salley and 
Digby something, in the way of entertainment and 
excitement, if an opportunity should present itself. 

The Sunday preceding Anniversary day the senior 
class sat in the front pews of the village church 
and listened to a baccalaureate sermon by Professor 
McCleery — an address of characteristic incisiveness 
and directness, and strong in the qualities of a practical 
common sense. Like most of the Professor’s public 


copen's masterpiece 


405 


utterances, it did not fail to make a deep impression 
upon his hearers. 

That afternoon Raymond and Ned strolled into the 
country to visit Wiswell, who had returned home in 
order that he might pass the Anniversary week at 
Krampton. 

It was a glorious summer afternoon. Never had 
the rugged country surrounding Krampton appealed 
to them more strongly in its picturesque beauty. The 
foot-hills, stretching back to the mountain ranges, 
whose wooded peaks towered in majesty and grandeur 
against the blue of the horizon, were radiant with the 
glories of June. Nature was everywhere touched and 
transformed by the fullness of life. The fields and 
pastures, enclosed by substantial stone walls that bore 
mute but eloquent testimony to the toil of generations 
of home builders, were carpeted with living green, and 
the incense of summer blossoms filled the air with a 
soft and soothing fragrance. The cattle and sheep 
browsed contentedly on the hillsides, and behind 
stretches of corn-field, and through the sheen of 
orchards brilliant with color, rose the long, sloping, 
weather-beaten roofs of the one-story farmhouses that 
at intervals dotted the landscape. 

Raymond and Ned paused a moment on the bridge 
to watch the river winding its way through the hills, 
like a band of silver, to meet and mingle with the 
Merrimac. 

The magic of the scene was on them both, and for 


406 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

a moment, absorbed in their own reflections, neither 
spoke. 

Presently Ned aroused himself, with an apparent 
effort. 

“ Wherever we may go in the years to come,” he 
said, “ we need never expect to find a more beautiful 
place than this.” 

“Just what I was thinking,” assented Raymond, 
with a sigh. 

Already the shadow of parting was resting on them 
both. 

Ned’s mood changed. 

“ Were you down here this spring to see the drive 
go through ? ” he asked, turning to Raymond. 

“ No.” 

“ Well, you missed a treat. A lot of the girls were 
here, and Ben Dorkins undertook to show off a little 
on one of the big logs. For a while he got on all right, 
then all at once the log commenced to roll. Ben raced 
around about twice, like an acrobat on a barrel, but 
the pace was too hot for him. In about a minute his 
feet shot out from under him, and he went into the 
water all over. Wow! Wasn’t it cold, though! It 
was just about up to his neck, and you should have 
seen him when he waded ashore. Looked a good deal 
like a drowned rat. At first the girls were scared 
nearly blue; but when they saw that the water wasn’t 
over his head, they burst into hysterical laughter that 
made Ben warm — at least under the collar. His face 


copen's masterpiece 407 

was red as a beet, as he climbed up the bank. He stood 
there a moment with chattering teeth, and looked at 
them in comical disgust. My! I couldn’t have kept 
a straight face on me to save my life. 

“ ‘ Ladies and gentlemen,’ he growled, ‘ having made 
an ass of myself, and amused the audience, I will now 
retire.’ ” 

“ Ben never was lacking in a sense of humor,” 
laughed Raymond. 

Continuing their way after crossing the bridge, the 
boys finally paused a moment before a deserted farm- 
house that stood half-way up the slope of a long hill. 
It was an old one-story structure with moss-covered 
shingles, and a shed, with an oval-topped opening, 
adjoining one end. On the opposite side of the road 
was a barn which had been painted red, but which 
retained only a few isolated patches of its original 
color. A barnyard enclosed with a stone wall, and 
supplied with bars at the front and rear, extended 
along one side of the building at right angles to the 
road. 

“ This is Uncle Joe Pilgren’s place,” announced 
Ned, as they paused a moment to look back upon the 
landscape which stretched out like a panorama beneath 
them. 

“ Is that so ? I didn’t know he was a farmer,” 
responded Raymond. 

“ He isn’t much of a one. Keeps his hay and a few 
hens here. That piece of corn back of the barn is all 


408 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

the crop he has. The old man likes to come up here 
and putter around a little 'most every day; but you 
couldn't hire him to live outside of the village." 

“ There doesn't appear to be any other houses near," 
said Raymond, reflectively. 

“ Not for nearly a mile on either side," assented 
Ned. 

“ Just the place I’ve been looking for," exclaimed 
Raymond, with sudden animation. 

“ For what? " asked Ned, wonderingly. 

“ For Salley and Digby to come with us on a chicken- 
stealing expedition. We can have A1 Wiswell, and 
some of the other old fellows who will be back to-mor- 
row or next day dress up as farmers and hide in that 
shed. A1 can take them to his house, and rig them 
up for their parts. They will want, of course, to take 
two or three revolvers loaded with blank cartridges. 
About the time we get here with Salley and Digby, 
and are preparing to steal the chickens, they can dash 
across the road and catch us in the act. If we want 
to make things real interesting for the boys we can 
throw in a tragedy or two." 

Ned looked at his roommate with open admiration. 

/‘Great head!" he said, enthusiastically, “but do 
you think it will work? " 

“ I haven't a doubt of it. You see, Ned, all the 
fellows who take the part of farmers will be strangers 
to Salley and Digby." 

“ Well, perhaps you can pull it off," said Ned, a 


copen's masterpiece 


409 


little doubtfully ; “ but I sha’n’t feel very confident 
about it until I see it done.” 

Raymond smiled at his friend’s incredulity, but made 
no comment. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 

“ I’m with you/’ laughed A1 Wiswell, as he sat with 
Raymond and Ned on a big granite boulder that stood 
by the roadside not far from his father’s house. 

Raymond had just unfolded to him his plan for 
entertaining Salley and Digby. 

“ I think we have old traps enough kicking about 
the shed and garret to furnish all the make-up that 
will be necessary,” he added. “ There are two revolv- 
ers here in the house, and I know where I can 
borrow another. That ought to be armory enough, 
hadn’t it ? ” 

“ It’s more than an armory. It’s an arsenal,” 
responded Ned. 

“ I’ll go to the village to-morrow and lay in a supply 
of blank cartridges,” added Wiswell. 

“ Whom can you get to help you ? ” asked Raymond. 

“ When were you planning to have the raid ? ” 

“ Tuesday night.” 

“ Good ! That will bring it all right. Greyson and 
Moker are coming to-morrow to stay over night with 
me. How would they do ? ” 

“ Just the fellows ! ” said Raymond, with enthu- 
410 


THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 41 1 

siasm. “We sha’n’t leave Krampton until ten o’clock 
or after. So if you fellows are hidden in the shed 
by a quarter of eleven you will be in good season.” 

“ We’ll be there,” said Wiswell. 

Raymond and Ned experienced little difficulty, upon 
their return to Krampton, in completing arrangements 
for the “ raid.” Salley and Digby were delighted to 
be honored with an invitation to join a party of students 
for whose exploits they had secretly entertained a great 
admiration. Silas Akers, who was invited to form one 
of the “guides,” — as Ned laughingly called them — 
entered, with his customary heartiness, into the spirit 
of the affair. 

It was bright starlight the following Tuesday night 
when Salley and Digby, shortly after ten o’clock, 
crossed the covered bridge that spanned the river, in 
company with Akers, Raymond and Ned. 

They were both deeply impressed with the momen- 
tous character of this foraging expedition, and were 
looking eagerly forward to the good time they would 
have at the supper, which would follow its successful 
outcome. 

As they slowly climbed the long hill leading to the 
Pilgren farm, Raymond, who was acting as leader, 
assumed a great air of caution and mystery. His 
companions were repeatedly charged not to speak above 
a whisper. Half-way up the slope the party climbed 
over the stone wall by the roadside, and waited in its 
shadow while Raymond crawled along behind it to a 


412 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


point which would, ostensibly, command a better view 
of the situation. 

A team driving slowly up the hill caused the boys 
to lie flat, close in against the wall, until it had passed. 

Presently Raymond returned. “ The coast is clear,” 
he announced, in a stage whisper. 

“ Go easy, fellows ! ” cautioned Akers. “ Have you 
that bag, Salley ? ” 

“ Right here,” responded Salley. 

“ You want to make sure that those chickens don’t 
do much squawking,” added Ned. “ Catch them by 
the heads and wring their necks.” 

“ Yes,” assented Digby. “ How many do we want? ” 

“ Oh, a dozen should do nicely,” said Ned, care- 
lessly, — a reply that brought forth a suppressed titter 
from Akers. Salley and Digby, however, were too 
thoroughly impressed by the great hazard of the enter- 
prise to notice it. 

In a short time they reached the stone wall enclosing 
the Pilgren barnyard. Here they waited a moment 
while Raymond again reconnoitered the premises. 

“ Come on, fellows,” he whispered, presently. 
“ Bring along that top bar. The door to the tie-up 
is hasped on the inside. We’ll have to pry it up.” 

The boys climbed carefully over the back bars into 
the enclosure. Salley and Digby brought the top bar 
and inserted one end under the edge of the tie-up door, 
using an old three-legged milking stool for a fulcrum. 

“ Easy ! easy ! ” cautioned Raymond. “ There isn’t 



“ I've caught ye, 


YE RASCALS ! ” 


Page 413. 





THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 4I3 

any use of smashing things. All we need to do is to 
pry it up far enough to throw out the hasp.” 

“ This fulcrum isn’t high enough,” asserted Salley. 

“ I’ll get a flat rock from the wall,” said Akers, 
starting across the yard.” 

There was a sudden rush of feet across the road. 
Three farmers, apparently a father and his two grown- 
up sons, put in a most unexpected appearance. 

“ I’ve caught ye, ye rascals ! Stealing my chickens, 
hey ? ” roared the leader, a powerful-looking man, as 
he threw a leg over the top bar. 

The terrified Salley and Digby perceived that he 
wore a frayed old garibaldi of blue drilling, and 
overalls, worse for wear, of the same material, one 
leg of which was tucked into the top of a big cowhide 
boot. A broad-brimmed straw hat, and a pair of old 
spectacles, completed his attire. The two farmers who 
followed behind him were similarly dressed, with the 
exception of the spectacles. 

“ I’ll larn ye, ye varmints,” continued the irate 
farmer in a hoarse bellow, apparently enraged at 
receiving no reply to his question. 

“ Shoot ’em, father ! Shoot ’em ! ” cried a short, 
thick-set fellow behind him, whom the rest of the 
marauders — aside from Salley and Digby — recog- 
nized as Moker. 

“ Let me get -a prod at ’em,” shouted the familiar 
voice of Sandy Greyson, and the “ guides ” perceived, 
with amusement, that he was armed with a pitchfork. 


414 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Salley and Digby were not in condition to see any- 
thing very clearly after their first glance at the angry 
man, who had caught them in the very midst of their 
knavery. Both were fairly dazed with fright, and 
visions of prison bars danced across their terrified 
imaginations. 

“ Light out ! ” called Raymond, sharply, as he vaulted 
the bars in the rear of the barnyard, and Salley and 
Digby lost no time in acting upon his advice. 

Immediately there came the loud report of revolvers, 
and, as they threw a quick glance backward over their 
shoulders, they were terrified to see Akers stagger, 
throw up his arms, and fall to the ground. Each of 
them also fancied that he had heard bullets whistle 
by his own ears. 

“ This is bad business/’ panted Ned, as they raced 
across the cornfield. 

It really looked that way, for by this time the farmers 
had crossed the barnyard, climbed the back bars, and 
were racing after them as they quartered down the 
slope of the long hill. 

Crack ! crack ! came the sharp report of their 
revolvers. 

“ O Lord ! ” gasped Salley, in tones of terror, as 
his long legs carried him across the field towards a 
piece of woodland growing about a ledgy peak at its 
farther side, at a rate of speed that Raymond had not 
supposed him capable of. Certainly he had never 
exhibited anything like it in his football experience. 


THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 415 

Digby had turned sharply to the left and was run- 
ning directly down the hill towards the river, in a 
course parallel with the main road. Ned, who was 
more than his equal as a runner, was close at his heels. 

It soon became evident to Raymond that he could 
not keep pace with Salley. His breath was coming 
in short gasps, and the perspiration was running down 
his face. 

He heard the crack of a revolver behind him, and 
glancing over his shoulder, he perceived the tall form 
of Wiswell ploughing along in his rear. A happy 
inspiration came to him, and, with a loud groan, he 
fell to the ground. This move seemed to almost give 
wings to Salley, who fairly flew over the ground. A 
moment later he disappeared in the woods, and Ray- 
mond could hear the snapping of the dry underbrush 
as he went crashing up the hillside. 

A moment later Wiswell reached the spot where 
Raymond was lying, and threw himself, hot and pant- 
ing, on the ground beside him. 

“ Great Caesar’s ghost ! ” he gasped. “ Did you 
ever see the beat of this ? ” 

“ Never,” laughed Raymond, as he rose to his feet 
and stood listening for a moment to see if he could 
hear anything further from Salley, but no sound came 
from him. 

“ I don’t believe either of those fellows will grow 
again for a year,” was Wiswell’s mirthful comment. 

“ There’!! be no need of it,” chuckled Raymond. 


416 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ I think the lift of their hair must have pulled them 
up at least an inch to-night. Let’s find the fellows.” 

They strolled leisurely down the slope of the hill, 
quartering across the field in the direction of the main 
road, and presently came upon Greyson and Moker 
seated upon a knoll near the stone wall, with tears of 
laughter streaming down their cheeks. 

“Where’s Ned?” demanded Raymond, when he 
and Wiswell had seated themselves beside them. 

“ Oh, he’s looking after Digby,” laughed Moker. 
“ There’s no telling what that excited young man 
might do, if he were left entirely alone.” 

“ I’m glad Ned’s with him,” said Wiswell, in a tone 
of relief. 

“ What became of Salley ? ” asked Greyson. 

“ Oh, he took to the woods,” responded Raymond, 
with a grin. 

“ I didn’t have much faith in your scheme, Benson, 
when A1 first propounded it,” confessed Moker, “ but 
I must admit that I didn’t do justice to your ingenuity. 
It was a complete — I may say a roaring success.” 

“ Do you know my heart almost came into my 
mouth when Akers let that groan out of him, and 
dropped in the barnyard,” said Greyson. 

“ It was great acting,” commented Wiswell. “ I 
was almost afraid for a minute that we might have 
got a ball cartridge in with our blank ones, in spite 
of our caution; I tell you I was mightily relieved 
when I heard him giggle as I passed him.” 


THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 417 

“ Here comes our gory victim now,” announced 
Wiswell, — and a moment later Akers joined them. 

“ My wounds are healing nicely,” he announced 
with a grin, in response to their somewhat hilarious 
greetings. “ Let me congratulate you on the success 
of your make-ups,” he added, with a low chuckle. 
“ They were simply great. I didn’t know but that 
Uncle Joe himself might have got loose.” 

“ Probably thought you recognized his voice,” com- 
mented Moker. 

This reference to the thin tones of Uncle Pilgren, 
and the implied comparison with Wiswell’s powerful 
bass, evoked a roar of laughter. 

“ Let up, fellows ! ” commanded Wiswell, controlling 
his voice with an effort. “ We’re getting a little 
hysterical over this thing. In behalf of Mr. Akers 
and Mr. Benson, I extend to myself and my two sons 
a cordial invitation to pass the remainder of the night 
with them at the Finn house.” 

“ Second the motion,” laughed Akers. 

“ Let’s hunt up Salley and go home,” suggested 
Raymond. 

Shortly after the party stood at the edge of the 
woods where Salley had disappeared, and shouted his 
name lustily; but received no response. 

“ He’s skirted round the edge of the peak, and 
then made for the bridge. I’ve no doubt he’s back at 
Krampton by this time,” declared Moker, with con- 
viction. 


418 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ He’d be there and resting if he went in that 
direction, and kept up the gait I last saw him using,” 
said Raymond. 

“ I’m afraid he won’t dare to cross the bridge,” said 
Wiswell, a little anxiously. “ He’ll be afraid that a 
watch has been set there for him.” 

“ I don’t believe he’ll give any one of you credit for 
being able to equal his stride,” asserted Akers. 

“ The trouble is, that he’s not in a frame of mind 
to think logically,” continued Wiswell. “ He’ll be 
suspicious of everything.” 

“ Let him alone. He’ll turn up in the wash,” said 
Sandy Greyson, carelessly. 

As there appeared to be no hope of finding the 
missing Salley, the boys made their way back across 
the bridge to the Finn house, which they reached 
shortly after midnight. 

Here they found Ned waiting for them. 

“ I’ve had an awful time with Digby,” he announced. 
“ He was awfully rattled — in fact, scared almost blue. 
I’ve had to argue with him, and coax him, and threaten 
him, to keep him from routing out Prof. McCleery 
and making a full confession to him.” 

“ Great Scott ! that won’t do at all,” cried Akers, in 
alarm. “ What made you leave him ? ” 

“ Oh, he’s promised me faithfully that he won’t do 
a thing until morning, and not then before he has had 
another talk with me.” 

“ I don’t think it’s safe to leave him alone,” declared 


THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 419 

Raymond. “ He’s so thoroughly stampeded there’s no 
telling what he may do.” 

Better rout out Hartley Pember and send him up 
to Digby’s room,” advised Wiswell. “He can tell 
him that you have reached a satisfactory settlement 
with the farmers, and that ‘ mum ’ is now the watch- 
word.” 

This plan met with instant favor. Hartley Pember 
was speedily dragged from his bed and, after being 
fully posted on the situation, was sent to Digby’s 
room. 

He returned a little later with a smile on his face 
that was decidedly reassuring to the somewhat anxious 
group awaiting him at the Finn house. 

“ You fellows deserve to be prosecuted for cruelty 
to animals,” he announced, as he tossed his hat on the 
table.” 

“ What for ? ” demanded Moker. 

“ For scaring those poor fellows so. Why, when 
Digby finally opened the door, after I had rapped 
about half a dozen times, he was pale as a ghost. 

“ ‘ I thought it was the sheriff,’ he said, in a weak 
voice. I tell you I never worked much harder in my 
life than I did to pump a little ginger into that fellow.” 

“ I hope you got him smoothed out,” said Raymond. 

“ Well, I explained how you had settled with the 
farmers; that there was nothing really serious about 
the wounds of Benson and Akers, and that everything 
would come out all right if we all kept mum. That 


420 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


seemed to reassure him. I tell you, fellows, there’s 
a good deal of the man in Digby, for all he’s so young! 
He insisted on paying his part of the settlement with 
the farmers; said his father had sent him the money 
to settle his board bill; but that the debt growing out 
of to-night’s scrape must take precedence of all others. 
I assure you he was true blue. I was ashamed of you 
fellows for stringing him so.” 

“We didn’t expect the joke to pan out quite so 
strongly,” confessed Raymond. 

After further discussion it was decided to send Ned 
to Digby’s room to remain with him over night. 

“ Let’s go to bed,” suggested Akers, when he had 
gone. “ Here it is one o’clock. There’s nothing to 
be gained by sitting up any later.” 

Beds were improvised for the farmers on the couches 
of the various rooms, and, in a short time, the entire 
party was fast asleep. 

Akers and Raymond, who had slept together, were 
the first members of the party to rise, shortly before 
six o’clock. Both of them were worried, more than 
they would have cared to admit, by the continued 
failure of Salley to put in an appearance. 

Raymond had just seated himself by the study table, 
when Akers, who was looking out of the window, 
suddenly exclaimed : “ There’s Salley ! ” 

“ Where ? ” demanded Raymond, excitedly. 

“ Coming up the street. Get into that easy chair, 
quick!” 


THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 42 1 

Raymond seated himself in the big chair, while 
Akers hastened to wrap him about in a quilt from the 
bed. A wet towel was then folded up and wound 
about his head, which was bolstered up with a pillow. 
Thus attired, and lying languidly back in the big chair, 
Raymond had every appearance of being a very sick 
boy — at least he so impressed Salley when, in answer 
to Akers’s rap on the window, he made his way a little 
wearily into the room, his experience of the preceding 
night showing very plainly in the haggard lines of his 
face. 

“ How are you, Salley?” said Raymond, in a weak 
voice, extending a hand from under the quilt. 

“ How are you ? ” responded Salley, in sympathetic 
tones, taking the proffered hand. “ Are you much 
hurt ? ” 

“ Not seriously,” responded Raymond, faintly. 

“ I’m glad to hear it,” said Salley, with very evident 
relief. “ I thought you were hit,” he added, turning 
to Akers. 

“ I was fooling all the time,” said Akers, with a 
burst of frankness. “ The farmers went right by me 
without stopping. I could have got up and made off 
if I’d wanted to; but when I saw Raymond and Ned 
with the farmers, I went down and joined them.” 

“ What did you do ? ” demanded Salley, impatiently. 

“ Oh, we settled with them,” returned Akers, cheer- 
fully. 

A look of relief lighted up Salley’s pinched features. 


422 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ That’s good,” he said, heartily. “ Of course I 
shall expect to pay my share.” 

“ I can’t allow it,” protested Raymond, in a hollow 
voice. “ I got you into this scrape. It is my duty to 
get you out of it.” 

“ No, it isn’t,” declared Salley, with emphasis. “ I 
took my chances with the rest of you, and I must 
insist on fidding up my share of whatever it cost you 
to get out of the mess.” 

“ I wouldn’t discuss that matter at present, 
Salley,” interposed Akers. “ Better wait till Benson 
is stronger.” 

“ All right,” assented Salley, reluctantly, “ but I 
want it understood that I don’t propose to shirk any- 
thing that belongs to me.” 

“ Oh, that’s all right,” said Akers. “ You can fix 
it up later.” 

“Where did you stay last night?” interrupted 
Raymond, in feeble tones. 

“ In the woods.” 

“ Didn’t you hear us calling you ? ” 

“ Yes, but I thought it was the farmers. Well, I 
guess I’ll be going. I want to get an hour or two of 
sleep before nine o’clock if I can. Glad everything 
came out all right.” 

“ Well, so long,” said Raymond, and a little later 
they heard Salley stamping down the stairs. 

For a moment after he had gone Raymond and 
Akers looked at each other in silence, and then burst 


THE CHICKEN RAID AND ITS OUTCOME 423 

into a laugh so loud and hearty that it promptly 
brought Wiswell, Moker and Greyson into the room 
in more or less negligee. 

In a few words Raymond related to them what had 
just occurred during Salley’s brief call, to their very 
evident enjoyment. 

The members of the party were on their way to the 
Holt house for breakfast, when they met Ned coming 
down the street. 

“ This whole thing will be all over town in an 
hour,” he announced, in a tone of disgust. 

“Why so?” demanded Wiswell. 

“ Because Digby can’t help talking about it. He 
told Edwin Burton and Burl Marden all about it this 
morning, after pledging them not to say anything 
about it.” 

“ I don’t think they will,” interposed Akers. 

“ Fiddlesticks! ” exclaimed Ned, impatiently. “ What 
if they don’t? How long will it be before he tells 
some one who will ? ” 

“ You’re right,” declared Moker. “ The whole 
village will be laughing about it before noon.” 

This prediction proved true. Before the day was 
far advanced the broad smiles that greeted Salley and 
Digby at every turn, finally awoke them to an appre- 
ciation of the true situation. They immediately started 
for Raymond and Ned’s room, where they found 
“ guides ” and “ farmers ” together in a mirthful dis- 
cussion of the escapade. 


424 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


“ We acknowledge the corn. We were completely 
bamboozled,” said Salley, manfully, as he and Digby 
stood, smiling a little sheepishly, in the doorway. 

“ Yes,” added Digby, “ and to show you that we 
don’t lay it up against you, we’ve come to invite you 
up to the drug store to have a soda with us.” 

This invitation was promptly accepted, and a moment 
later, over foamy glasses before the white marble 
fountain in the village drug store, victims and per- 
petrators of the chicken-raid joke pledged their mutual 
good will and friendship. 

When the stage from Bristol came that evening it 
brought Mr. and Mrs. Grover, Mr. and Mrs. Benson, 
and Raymond’s sister Clara. Grandfather Benson had 
planned to be present at Raymond’s graduation; but 
had been detained at the last moment by the illness 
of his wife, which, while not of a serious character, 
was sufficient to keep him at home. 

Comfortable quarters for the party were secured at 
the hotel, and when Raymond and Ned returned to 
their room late that night, after seeing the members 
of their families back to their rooms from the prize- 
speaking contest, it was with the sad consciousness that 
in a few hours more their life at Krampton, with its 
pleasures and its benefits, would be ended; but there 
was consolation in the reflection that its memories and 
its friendships would still be theirs. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


GOOD-BY TO KRAMPTON 

Anniversary day dawned clear and beautiful. The 
village street was alive with visitors, and bright with 
color. The incense of flowers was everywhere. 

As Raymond and Ned were making their way to 
the hotel to meet and escort the members of their 
families to the Chapel hall, they met Sandy Greyson, 
who greeted them cordially. After wishing them good 
luck in their graduating exercises he said abruptly: 

“ I shall expect to see you at Woodville next fall, 
Benson, with Ned and me. Orville Parker is coming 
there, too.” 

“ But Ned and I are going to Kenton,” protested 
Raymond. 

“ Ned has already thought better of that,” laughed 
Greyson, “ and I think you will, too, before next fall. 
I tell you,” he added, earnestly, “ that I shall be a 
mighty happy fellow to have you two with me there — 
and I know that the whole college would give you a 
hearty welcome. What’s the use of going to Kenton, 
where you’re not likely to see another man from 
Krampton during your whole course? Go with your 
friends, my boy.” 

425 


426 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

With this parting admonition Greyson left them to 
continue on their way to the hotel. For a moment 
they walked along in silence, then Raymond asked 
abruptly — 

“ Is it true? ” 

“ Is what true?” demanded Ned, a little uneasily. 

“That you are going to Woodville?” 

“ I’m thinking of it.” 

Raymond was very much disturbed by this reply. 

“Why, Ned!” he exclaimed, in a voice that trem- 
bled a little in spite of himself, “ I thought it was 
always understood that you and I were to go to 
Kenton.” 

“ Circumstances alter cases,” said Ned, evasively. 
It was evident that he did not care to discuss the 
matter. 

“ Perhaps you are tired of me,” suggested Raymond, 
a little resentfully. 

For the first time Ned turned and looked him 
squarely in the eye. 

“ You know better than that,” he said, quietly. 

“Then why do you want to leave me?” 

“ I don’t. I expect you to come with me, when 
you have had a chance to look the whole matter over 
carefully.” 

“ Perhaps,” said Raymond, briefly. He was at a 
loss to account for the unexpected change in Ned’s 
plans. So close had been their relations, so freely had 
each confided his affairs to the other, that he felt a 


GOOD-BY TO KRAMPTON 427 

little hurt by this sudden and unaccountable reticence. 
He knew that Ned had been a warm friend and admirer 
of Greyson; but he had never dreamed that Sandy 
would be able to exert an influence comparable with 
his own, in determining the future of the sturdy 
Krampton catcher. He determined to say nothing 
further to Ned on the subject until they were back 
again in Chestnut. Once there he was confident that 
he would have no serious difficulty in persuading his 
old friend and roommate to accompany him to Kenton 
in the fall. 

Soon after this conversation they reached the hotel, 
and a little later had the members of their families 
provided with excellent seats in the Chapel hall. 

The graduating exercises passed off very success- 
fully, both Raymond and Ned acquitting themselves 
with credit. At the completion of the programme the 
members of the senior class were ranged in a big semi- 
circle about the stage, to hear the closing remarks of 
Professor McCleery, and to receive their diplomas. 
It was the last act of their course; an impressive cere- 
mony preceding the final parting, which brought tears 
to nearly every eye. 

Professor McCleery spoke with deep feeling, con- 
gratulating them upon the successful manner in which 
they had met the tests of graduating week, and express- 
ing for the Academy an earnest hope for their happi- 
ness and success in whatever occupations the future 
might have in store for them. 


4^8 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

“ There is always a disposition,” he said, “ to make 
the school a little world by itself, and to set it off from 
the life around it by imaginary boundaries which we 
call education. It is a pleasant fiction, and one which 
is apt to figure, more or less prominently, in gradu- 
ating essays and orations. How natural it is to speak 
of going out into the great world of life and action. 
Many a flowery theme has been constructed about this 
nebulous fancy, and yet I say to you that boys and 
girls are never more truly in the world of life and 
action, than during that period of foundation building 
which we commonly call ‘ school days/ The poet has 
well said that ‘ Men are but children of an older 
growth/ The world is only a big school; and life 
itself an education at whose close we graduate into 
the higher and fuller life that lies beyond. The few 
concrete facts you may have learned here, do not con- 
stitute culture. They will be of value only as they 
have developed your powers of mental application, and 
trained you to orderly processes of thought. The 
most valuable part of our education is that which 
comes, through trained faculties, from association with 
men and affairs. The pebble in the whirlpool is 
smoothed and polished by grinding contact with other 
pebbles — so through association with others, and by 
the friction of experience, is character rounded into 
lines of beauty; and intellect given breadth of view 
and keenness of perception. 

“ These processes will never be more active or more 


GOOD-BY TO KRAMPTON 


429 


real than they have been here at Krampton. It is the 
same world for you to-day and to-morrow. You are 
simply about to leave present associations, and enter 
into others. It is for you to say whether the super- 
structure you shall rear upon the foundation here laid 
shall be to your credit and happiness, and for the 
welfare of those whose lines in life may touch or 
mingle with yours. In behalf of Krampton Academy, 
I bid you, one and all, a hearty God-speed.” 

The diplomas were then presented, and the exercises 
of the day brought to a close. 

Ned accompanied the family back to the hotel, while 
Raymond went to the Finn house to complete his pack- 
ing. As he passed down the street, diploma in hand, 
he found that the feeling of exhilaration with which 
he had looked forward to this event had given place 
to one of sadness. Krampton, and its picturesque 
surroundings, had never seemed so dear to him as they 
did at that moment. 

Absorbed in these somewhat despondent reflections, 
he was aroused by the voice of Professor Morton, 
who was occupying a suite of rooms on the first floor 
of a private residence between the Academy grounds 
and the Finn house. 

He stood bareheaded in the doorway, and there was 
a strange agitation in his manner. 

“ Will you please come in here a moment, Mr. 
Benson ? ” he said. 

Wondering what could be coming, Raymond fol- 


430 RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 

lowed him into the study. For a moment after the 
door closed, the Professor paced nervously back and 
forth in evident perturbation. 

“ Mr. Benson,” he said, presently, in a voice that 
choked a little in spite of his effort to control it, “ I 
owe you an abject apology for the great wrong I did 
you — er — Mr. Lake has been here and told me all.” 

“ Don’t mention it, Professor,” said Raymond, 
deprecatingly. “ I always felt that you acted from 
the kindest motives — and I appreciated it, even though 
your suspicions were, misplaced.” 

“ It’s generous of you to say that, Benson. I did 
feel that I was doing you a real service. I cannot, 
however, forgive myself for having been so blind,” 
he added, with very evident distress. “ It was all clear 
enough to me when Lake opened my eyes.” 

“ He would have told you the night you came to 
me if I hadn’t asked him, as a personal favor to me, 
not to do so,” declared Raymond. 

“ So he said.” 

“ I think the whole matter worked out for the best,” 
continued Raymond. “ Lake has not tasted liquor 
since that day, and I think the change is a permanent 
one.” 

“ And I thought it was you all the time,” groaned 
the Professor, in an agony of self-reproach. “ I’m 
very glad, Mr. Benson, if any real good has come out 
of the affair; but I can never forgive myself for my 
inexcusable and stupid blunder.” 


GOOD-BY TO KRAMPTON 


431 


“ You are unjust to yourself,” said Raymond, 
warmly. “ The mistake, under the circumstances, was 
a perfectly natural one. Out of it has come good 
results, and I do not see any reason for vain regrets 
at this time. I am glad to be restored to your good 
opinion, and I shall always feel that you showed a 
kindly spirit in coming to me in the quiet way that 
you did.” 

“ Yes, it might have been worse,” admitted the 
Professor, humbly. 

Raymond rose to go, but paused a moment with his 
hand on the door-knob. 

“ I hope — that is, perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling 
me where you got that photograph,” he said, with some 
hesitation. 

“ Certainly not,” responded the Professor, promptly. 
“ I bought it of the photographer.” 

Raymond gave a sigh of relief. “ I felt sure that 
none of the fellows gave it out,” he said. 

He lingered a moment in the door, then turned and 
held out his hand, with impulsive heartiness. 

“ Good-by, Professor,” he said, in an uncertain voice. 
“ You have been my friend, and I will be yours.” 

There was a suspicious moisture in Professor Mor- 
ton’s eyes, and he did not trust himself to reply. He 
silently pressed Raymond’s hand — and so they parted. 

It had been arranged for Raymond and Ned to 
accompany their parents and Clara to Boston for a 
week’s visit before spending the summer in Chestnut. 


43 2 


RAYMOND BENSON AT KRAMPTON 


Even this prospect did not wholly console them, and 
the eyes they turned back upon Krampton, as they 
rode away to Dicksville on the big stage-coach the 
next morning, were blinded by tears. 

The adventures and experiences that later befell 
them will be told in the third, and concluding, volume 
of this series, entitled, The Kenton Pines, or Ray- 
mond Benson at College. 


Raymond Benson Series 

By CLARENCE B. BURLEIGH 

Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman Large i2mo, Cloth 
$1.50 per volume 


The Camp on Letter K 

jy/TR. BURLEIGH, the well-known editor 
of the “ Kennebec Journal,” Augusta, 
Me., and a Bowdoin graduate, has 
started a series of books along the same 
lines as those of Elijah Kellogg, which 
still retain the popularity they gained a 
generation ago. u The Camp on Letter K” 
deals with two active boys in Aroostook 
County, Maine, close to the northeastern 
boundary of our country, and where smug- 
gling across the Canadian line has been 
prevalent. Equally ready in athletics, 
hunting, or helping their families on the rich farms of that section, these 
good chums have many exciting adventures, the most important of 
which directly concerns the leading smugglers of the district, and an 
important public service is rendered by the boys. 

“There is an atmosphere about the whole book that is attractive to boys, and it 
will be read by them with enthusiastic delight. The flavor of the pine forests, the 
adventures of camp life, the shooting and the fishing are all of a character to warm 
boyish hearts.” — Democrat and Chronicle , Rochester , N. T. 

“ It is a good, live story, natural, absorbing, full of humor and appealing to a 
sportsman’s instinct in its pictures of the woods and hunting.” — Chicago News. 

“The tone is manly throughout, the fun of the best kind, and the book is dis- 
tinctly readable for any age.” — Zioti’s Herald , Boston. 

“ The book is one of the best boys’ books that have appeared this year, if not 
the best . ” — San Francisco Call. 



THE CAMP ON 
LETTER K 



For sale at all booksellers or seat postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 



Making of Our Nation Series 

By WILLIAM C. SPRAGUE 

Large i2mo, Cloth Illustrated by A. B. Shute 

Price per volume, $1.50 

The Boy Courier of Napoleon 

A Story of the Louisiana Purchase 

W ILLIAM C. SPRAGUE, the notably suc- 
cessful editor of “The American Boy,” 
has given for the first time the history 
of the Louisiana Purchase in entertaining story 
form. The hero is introduced as a French 
drummer boy in the great battle of Hohenlinden. 
He serves as a valet to Napoleon and later is 
sent with secret messages to the French in San 
Domingo and in Louisiana. After exciting ad- 
ventures he accomplishes his mission and is 
present at the lowering of the Spanish flag, and 
later at that of the French and the raising of 
the Stars and Stripes. 

“All boys and girls of our country who read this book will be delighted with it, 
as well as benefited by the historical knowledge contained in its pages.” — Louis - 
ville, Ky ., Times. 

“An excellent book for boys, containing just enough history to make them hunger 
for more. No praise of this book can be too high.” — Town Topics, Cleveland, O. 
“This book is one to fascinate every intelligent American boy.” — Buffalo Times. 

The Boy Pathfinder 

A Story of the Oregon Trail 

T HIS book has as its hero an actual character, 

George Shannon, a Pennsylvania lad, who 
at seventeen left school to become one of 
the Lewis and Clark expedition. He had nar- 
row escapes, but persevered, and the story of 
his wanderings, interwoven with excellent his- 
torical information, makes the highest type of 
general reading for the young. 

“It is a thoroughly good story, full of action and 
adventure and at the same time carrying a bit of real 
history accurately recorded.” — Universalist Leader , 

Boston . 

“It is an excellent book for a boy to read.” — New- 
ark , N. J., Advertiser. 


For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 





THE BOY CRAFTSMAN 

Practical and Profitable Ideas for a boy’i 
Leisure Hours 

By A. NEELY HALL 

Illustrated with over 400 diagrams and 
working drawings 8vo Price, $2.00 

XT' VERY real boy wishes to design and make 
^ things, but the questions of materials and 
tools are often hard to get around. Nearly all 
books on the subject call for a greater outlay of 
money than is within the means of many boys, 
or their parents wish to expend in such ways. 
In this book a number of chapters give sugges- 
tions for carrying on a small business that will 
bring a boy in money with which to buy tools 
and materials necessary for making apparatus 
and articles described in other chapters, while 
the ideas are so practical that many an indus- 
trious boy can learn what he is best fitted for in his life work. No work 
of its class is so completely up-to-date or so worthy in point of thorough- 
ness and avoidance of danger. The drawings are profuse and excellent, 
and every feature of the book is first-class. It tells how to make a boy’s 
workshop, how to handle tools, and what can be made with them; how 
to start a printing shop and conduct an amateur newspaper, how to 
make photographs, build a log cabin, a canvas canoe, a gymnasium, a 
miniature theatre, and many other things dear to the soul of youth. 

We cannot imagine a more delightful present for a boy than this book. — 
Churchman , N.T. 

Every boy should have this book. It’s a practical book — it gets right next to 
the boy’s heart and stays there. He will have it near him all the time, and on every 
page there is a lesson or something that will stand the boy in good need. Beyond 
a doubt in its line this is one of the cleverest books on the market. — Providence 
News. 

If a boy has any sort of a mechanical turn of mind, his parents should see that 
he has this book. — Boston Journal. 

This is a book that will do boys good. — Buffalo Express. 

The boy who will not find this book a mine of joy and profit must be queerly 
constituted. — Pittsburgh Gazette. 

Will be a delight to the boy mechanic. — Watchman , Boston . 

An admirable book to give a boy. — Newark News. 

This book is the best yet offered for its large number of practical and profitable 
ideas. — Milwaukee Free Press. 

Parents ought to know of this book. — New Fork Globe. 



For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 



PHILLIPS EXETER SERIES 

By A. T. DUDLEY 

Cloth, i2mo Illustrated by Charles Copeland Price per volume, $ 1 .25 

FOLLOWING THE BALL 

H ERE is an up-to-date story presenting American boarding-school life 
and modern athletics. Of course football is an important feature, 
but this is far more than a football book. It is a story of character forma- 
tion told in a most wholesome and manly way. In this development ath- 
letics play an important part, to be sure, but are only one feature in carry- 
ing the hero, “ Dick Melvin,” on to a worthy manhood. 

“ Mingled with the story of football is another and higher endeavor, giving the 
book the best of moral tone.” — Chicago Record-Herald. 

MAKING THE NINE 

T HIS story is lively and worth telling, and the 
life presented is that of a real school, inter- 
esting, diversified, and full of striking incidents, 
while the characters are true and consistent types of 
American boyhood and youth. The athletics are 
technically correct, abounding in helpful sugges- 
tions, soundly and wisely given, and the moral tone 
is high and set by action rather than preaching. 

“ The story is healthful, for, while it exalts athletics, it 
does not overlook the fact that studious habits and noble 
character are imperative needs for those who would win 
success in life.” — Herald and Presbyter , Cincinnati. 

THE LINE 

T ELLS how a stalwart young student won 
his position as guard, and at the same time 
made equally marked progress in the formation 
of character. It introduces the leading argu- 
ments for and against football in connection 
with the difficulties to be overcome before the 
hero’s father finally consents to allow his son to 
represent his academy in this way. 

“ The book gives boys an interesting story, much 
football information, and many lessons in true manli- 
ness. ” — Watchman , Boston. 


For tale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 





THE GREGORY GUARDS 

By Emma Lee Benedict Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill i 2 mo $1.25 

A YOUNG man of wealth is trustee for a 
fund to help boys and chooses six to pass 
the summer at his home on an island near New 
York. These lads of widely different tempera- 
ments in true boy fashion form a “club,” 
whose highest, purpose it is to watch over the 
property and interests of their benefactor, and 
to which they give his name. All profit in great 
measure from a summer that is a turning point in 
their lives. A story of reaping good by doing 
good, bright and entertaining and full of life, 
incident, and good sense. 

“ It is a story aloi.g - novel lines, and may be warmly 
commended.” — St. Louis Globe-Democrat, 

The Young Vigilantes 

A Story of California Life in the Fifties 

By Samuel Adams Drake Illustrated by L. J. 

Bridgman Price $1.25 

F EW men now remain who can describe the 
“Forty-Niners” from personal knowledge 
and experience, and the very best one of them 
is the noted historical writer, Col. Drake. One 
of two young chums in Boston yields to the ex- 
citement of the day and goes to California, partly 
at his friend’s expense. Later, the hero of the story 
is driven by injustice to make his way thither via 
the route across Nicaragua, befriended by an old 
sailor. A reunion and exciting experiences in San 
Francisco follow. 

“ The book is a bright, able, and wholesome contribution to the knowledge of 
our country’s progress .” — Religious Telescope , Dayton , O, 

Joe’s Signal Code 

By W. Reiff Hesser Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill $1.25 

T HIS book tells of the abandoning of a fine ship with its cargo in the 
Pacific Ocean. The leading characters, who are to leave in the last 
boat, had their escape cut off by its destruction, but succeed in saving the 
ship and lead a most interesting life for more than a year on a hitherto 
unknown island. 

“The boys will enjoy it from cover to cover. The book is many degrees above 
the ordinary story.” — American Boy t Detroit. 

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.. BOSTON 




TWO YOUNG INVENTORS 

THE STORY OF THE FLYING BOAT 

By ALVAH MILTON KERR Ulus- 
trated $1.25 

H ERE is a rattling good story; a tale of 
mystery, mechanism, and getting on in 
the world that will be a boy’s favorite for years. 
Two youths, both born inventors, make each 
other’s acquaintance as a result of misfortunes 
attending a Minnesota cyclone. Their efforts to 
perfect a flying-boat that shall not only skim the 
water, but rise into the air, result in the securing 
of a mechanical education. Mr. Kerr has 
solved the problem of a book that shall be 
intensely exciting and yet thoroughly wholesome. 

“The ingenuity and pluck of these two worthy heroes supply just the right 
material for the encouragement of ambitious youth.” — Boston Beacon. 

“The book is full of life, incident, and stirring success.” — Watchman , Boston. 
“ The book is deeply interesting, at times intensely exciting, and yet thoroughly 
clean and wholesome throughout.” — Portland Express. 

YOUNG HEROES OE WIRE AND RAIL 


By ALVAH MILTON KERR Illus- 
trated i2mo Cloth $1.25 

T HE place .which the sea once held in sup- 
plying thrilling tales of heroism and peril 
is now being largely usurped by that powerful 
agent of progress, the railway service, and with 
no lessening of interest. It is also very attrac- 
tive to know how those who bear the vast 
responsibilities of this service perform their 
work and meet the fearful emergencies that 
may arise at any time. 

“ The tone of the work is healthful and inspiring.” — 

Boston Herald. 

“They are calculated to inspire boys to become manly, and incidentally tney 
contain considerable valuable information.” — Newark News. 

“An ideal book for a young boy is ‘Young Heroes of Wire and Rail.”* — 
Episcopal Recorder , Philadelphia. 


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JACK TENFIELD’S STAR 

By Martha James Illustrated by Charles Copeland Large i2mo $1.00 

J ACK TENFIELD is a bright Boston boy, who, 
while preparing for college, is brought to face 
the fact that his father, a benevolent physi- 
cian, and supposed to be well-to-do, had really 
left no estate. Jack resolutely defends his 
father’s memory, and makes the best of it. Cir- 
cumstances bring much travel and many adven- 
tures, in all of which his generous, manly 
character rings true. That Jack is capable of 
being his “own star’’ well expresses the ex- 
cellent thought of the book, which is remarkable 
for variety of well-told incidents. 

“ A clean, wholesome, enjoyable book.” — The Amer- 
ican Boy , Detroit , Mich. 

Tom Winstone, “Wide Awake” 

By Martha James Large i2mo Illustrated by W. Herbert Dunton $1.00 

W E have often wished that we could secure a book for boys like the 
undying ones written by J. T. Trowbridge, and in “ Tom Win- 
stone” we have a young hero whose story is told in a way well worthy 
to be compared with the work of the older writer referred to. The 
sterling quality shown in u My Friend Jim” is all here, and “Tom,” an 
older boy, equally efficient in baseball, a foot race, or a noble action, is 
well worth knowing. 

“ Any healthy boy will delight in this book.” — Living’ Churchy Milwaukee , 1 Vis. 

My Friend Jim 

A Story of Real Boys and for Them 

By Martha James Large i2rno Illus- 
trated by Frank T. Merrill $1.00 

J UST the book to place in the hands of 
bright, active boys, and one that the 
most careful parents will be glad to use 
for that purpose. The loyal friendship 
springing up between Jim, the son of a me- 
chanic, and a wealthy man’s son who is at 
Sunnyside farm for his health, has made the 
basis for some of the cleanest, brightest, and 
most helpful descriptions of boy life that we 
have ever read. 

“ It is a book that boys will like and profit by.” 

—Universalist Leader , Boston. 

For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 
by the publishers, 

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You mg Defender Series 

By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS 

IN DEFENCE OF THE FLAG 

A Boy’s Adventures in Spain and Cuba in the 
War of 1898 

Illustrated by W. F. Stecher i2mo Cloth $1.25 

A STORY of action and adventure such as all 
healthy boys like, telling of a plucky young 
American who defended his country’s flag against 
mobs in Spain and foemen in Cuba, and had many 
thrilling experiences. 

u Suffice it to say that he will be a lucky boy, with many a t,.rill before him, 
who finds this book in his Christmas stocking. Don is a hero after every boy’s 
heart.” — Boston Herald. 

WITH LAWTON AND ROBERTS 

A Boy’s Adventures in the Philippines and the Transvaal 

Illustrated by C. Chase Emerson i2mo Cloth $1.25 

T HE stirring adventures of a manly American boy who follows Lawton 
in his last campaigns, and by a singular train of circumstances has 
“moving accidents by flood and field,” in two wars, with American soldiers, 
Filipino insurrectos, Malay pirates, English troopers, and Boer burghers. 

“ Mr. Brooks presents vivid pictures of both wars, so widely separated. His 
pages are full of the swift-moving incidents which boys love. Dull indeed must 
be the young reader whose interest flags.”. — Boston Journal. 

UNDER THE ALLIED FLAGS 

A Boy’s Adventures in China During the Boxer 
Revolt 

Illustrated by W. F. Stecher i2mo Cloth $1.25 
TTHE stirring story of an American boy’s adventures in 
Tien Tsin and Pekin, in the ranks of the Interna- 
tional troops and as one of the defenders of the be- 
leaguered legations. Up-to-date, absorbing, and full of 
healthy excitement. Characters who are in the stories 
“ With Lawton and Roberts ” and “ In Defence of the 
Flag ” reappear in this story. 

“ Men and women, boys and girls, of all the mingled nationalities that made 
this war in China so picturesque, appear in the story and give it vigor, variety, and 
unflagging interest.” — Cleveland World. 


- For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of price 

Y 9 0 gppy the publishers, 

L'OtHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


















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